A Different Path: Little Lies
by PrettyFrog
Summary: With a small twist in time... It should have been a simple job. Unfortunately, the world kind of exploded in the middle of it. Makes it a little hard to run for it when you've got a hand that keeps randomly glowing. Now they are calling him the Herald and saying he's chosen. There's only one problem. What happens when they find out his name isn't Trevelyan?
1. Chapter 1

The templar actually blushed when Matril brushed the hair back from his face. The young man really was kind of adorable, with those youthful freckles and bashful eyes. "Maker, the lieutenant will kill me if he catches me fraternizing on duty."

"You can always tell him you were trying to lure me into a false sense of security." Matril winked. "Doing your duty to make sure I'm not some wicked maleficar..." He ran a hand down the other man's cheek.

He chuckled. "Mages don't usually carry bows." The templar swallowed. "I, umm..."

"Good to see so many templars around." He leaned forward just slightly, enough that his breath would tickle the templar's hair. "Makes me feel..." He smiled wickedly. "Safer. But surely you aren't on duty all the time?"

"I..." The younger man blushed even redder. "I don't get off duty until supper."

His right hand cupped the man's neck for just a moment as his left hand retrieved the key off of the templar's belt. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to be patient." He licked his lips and saw the other man's eyes widen. "Until then."

He kept his walk a bit reluctant, conscious of the other man watching him until he was around the corner. Matril tossed the key up in the air once, caught it, and tucked it into his belt before heading back to meet his contact. Maker, but those little Chantry boys were just too easy. Come to think of it, if the rest of the evening went as smoothly, he might actually come back and look the guy up.

#

Mat ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He should head back up, do the job he'd been hired to do. But someone had told him his sister was here. Which was awkward, considering he didn't actually have a sister. But then, Otwin Trevelyan did. Bloody hell, he should have picked a different name. "You told me no Trevelyans would be here."

"Sod it, how were we to know where the sister was? She was on the run. Her kin are looking for her in Antiva." Bridget shrugged. "Will she recognize you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I only met her the once, and that was a few years ago. But she's going to know I'm not Otwin." He growled. "And so will anyone she describes Otwin too." He sighed. "I'm going to end up turned into a nug."

"Look, get in, get out, get moving. I'll meet you back in Jader for the exchange."

"He won't be back in his tent until this evening. You need me before then, I'll be at the bloody tavern." He ruffled Bridget's hair before leaving, dodging the kick she aimed at him in response.

#

One thing he enjoyed about the Qunari was how few of them wore shirts. His new drinking buddy was fairly easy on the eyes, and not bad at conversation either. He was considering making a pass when a qunari woman showed up and started chasing the guy out of the tavern.

It occurred to him that if the job went bad, hiring a bodyguard might not be the worst idea. He paid for the drinks, then followed the big man back up towards the temple. At least the yelling woman was sister, not wife. And there was apparently an entire group of them. It wasn't like he was actually going to pay them, after all. Let them go after the Trevelyans for the money. It would serve that bloody Lukas right to have a bunch of angry oxmen at his door.

"So if I did want to hire your group to..." A sound reached Mat's ears. "You hear something?"

"Someone shouting." The big man immediately went on alert. He gestured. "I'll take the stairs, you check the corridor."

The last thing he needed was to run off and play the hero. Heroing paid for shit. "Er..." But then, arguing just wasted time. "Okay."

He had started down the corridor when he saw his boss. Shit. He turned, and headed back for the stairs.

#

There were swords pointed at him.

"Who are you?"

He blinked up at the red haired woman. It was hard trying to force his mind to pay attention. "Mat."

"Mat?"

No. Shit. That wasn't right. He was... Who was he supposed to be? "Trevelyan." Too late to say Otwin. "Matril Trevelyan."

There was a mark on his hand. And they were accusing him of being responsible for... "What do you mean the Conclave was destroyed?" That hadn't been the plan. He was just supposed to steal some dwarven relic. Nothing about the relic... It was just some paragon thing.

The seeker dragged him out and showed him a hole in the sky. And asked him to help close it. "So if I do what you want, will I live through it?"

"We have no way of knowing." Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him.

That sounded ominously like a no.

#

The bridge collapsed, and they both fell. Green light shimmered nearby, and a demon rose out of the ground. Cassandra drew her blade and went to meet it. Mat scrambled backwards. Her back was turned. Time to get the hell out of here and... shit. Another one. He hid, and found a bow. Now he just needed to... The demon was after the Seeker. She'd be killed. And most likely, he'd get blamed for that too. He notched an arrow, and came up out of his hiding place.

#

"Drop your weapon. Now." And she was pointing a sword at him. It was going to be that kind of day, clearly.

"If you're going to lead me through a demon-infested valley, you'll have to trust me." Despite there being no arrow notched, he lowered the bow. But he did not relinquish it. Bloody hell, there were demons falling out of the sky.

She took another step towards him, anger on her face. "Give me one reason to trust you."

He'd just saved her life. "Because my life is on the line."

Cassandra stared at him, and then sighed. "You're right." She sheathed her blade. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She took a few steps up the mountain before turning back to him. "Your life is threatened enough as it is."

Well, this just kept getting better. Maybe shooting her when her back was turned wasn't that bad an idea. Except that if he tried that, there would be no way he'd make it off this mountain alive. The more opportunity he got to talk, the more opportunity there was to get out of this in one piece.

#

More demons. More dwarves. And a mage. Yay. Whatever the thing was on his hand was successful at closing the rift. Which meant they needed him alive. Always a good sign. Especially since he was fairly sure Cassandra wanted to kill him.

Mat ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair and tried to make since of what they were saying. The elven apostate seemed to know what was going on. The dwarf was Varric Tethras, who was apparently also a prisoner. He wasn't sure if the fact Varric was also armed and completely unafraid of Cassandra was a good sign or a bad. Well, the Seeker hadn't killed the apostate... Solas... yet either, so, good?

Maybe he'd get out of this with his head still attached to his neck. It wouldn't be the first time he had to break out of a prison cell.

#

He sealed another of the rifts, saving the lives of several Inquisition soldiers. "Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful." Varric shrugged as he stowed his crossbow again.

It was. He looked down at the glowing mark. And if he was the only one who could help, well then... Matril looked back up at the Breach in the sky. Assuming he survived that, this had some potential. How much would folks pay to have the rift in their courtyard removed?

And if he was the only one that could seal rifts, they couldn't exactly execute him now, could they?

#

Chancellor Roderick glared. "I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"Order me?" Cassandra glared right back. "You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat."

They argued, and it was clear they weren't going to stop anytime soon. Somewhat against his better judgment, he drew attention back to himself. "I believe the plan was for me to fix a hole in the sky?" He waved the marked hand.

"You brought this on us in the first place." The chancellor pointed at him before turning back towards Cassandra. "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it's too late." Cassandra folded her arms.

And they started arguing again, this time on how to actually get to their goal. To his surprise, Cassandra turned towards him. "How do you think we should proceed?"

"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow.

Solas's voice came from behind him. "You have the mark."

"And you are the one we must keep alive." Cassandra gestured. "Since we cannot agree on our own..."

Charging with a bunch of soldiers sounded like a good way to end up with holes poked into his favorite skin. "Through the mountains. We need to work together. You all know what is at stake here."

Cassandra looked unhappy, but she actually moved to obey. Matril looked down at his hand again. Interesting.

#

The path through the mountains involved a lot of climbing. The labyrinth beneath the temple was more extensive than he'd been told. If his contacts had been able to get him the full schematic, he'd have had that stupid relic and been gone two days ago. Tan had been crap for the information this go around. Matril took a look around. Tan had been up at the temple. One good thing to come... A chill went down his spine. Bridget had been there too.

He shook his head, notched an arrow, and put it through a demon starting to come down the hall.

#

More demons below, attacking Inquisition soldiers. He drew back the bow and fired an arrow into a demon that was raising its claws above a downed soldier. Cassandra nodded to him before charging in. As soon as the demons were dead, he raised his hand once more, sealing the rift. It tingled, making his palm itched. Wiping it on his tunic didn't really help the matter.

The soldiers were surprised and grateful at the rescue. He bowed to their leader. "Your people fought well. I'm pleased we had the chance to come to your assistance."

Solas seemed to be of the opinion they would face no further demons. Matril just hoped he was right. He wasn't happy about the idea of a demon getting close enough to attack. Cassandra was holding them at bay well enough thus far, but he liked to keep his enemies as far away as possible.

#

He stopped short at the first sight of the temple. It had been magnificent, when he and Bridget had first come up the path. The ancient building had stood, majestic against the mountain. Matril had been moved enough by the sight to actually join that evening's prayers. He was surprised to feel anger rising inside him as they walked through the remains. Andraste's final resting place, defiled by...

"That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you." Cassandra waved a hand as they passed the remains of an archway. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

Matril glanced in the direction, but nothing about the location held meaning for him. He wasn't sure where in the temple they would be at the moment, if it had still been standing. A woman... A dwarven woman would have been remarked, so it couldn't have been Bridget. He had no idea what other woman it could have been.

#

"The Breach sure is a long way up." Varric shook his head.

"You're here. Thank the Maker." Matril turned to see Leliana leading some soldiers to them. The woman's presence made him just a little nervous. The others might not notice a small misstep, but the Left Hand of the Divine certainly would. He'd rather not come further under her scrutiny.

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple." Cassandra gave the order before turning towards him. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"I will do all I can." Matril looked up at the Breach. "Though I am not certain I can reach that far."

"No." Solas shook his head, and indicated a rift down in the remains of what had been the temple's great hall. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

"I pray you are right." Matril nodded to him.

"Let's find a way down." Cassandra began heading through the ruins again. "And be careful."

#

"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice." The words seemed to come from the very air around them. It was more than a little disturbing. The number of soldiers really didn't do much to assuage the urge to turn and flee. It was more the knowledge that they'd likely kill him if he tried that stopped him.

Solas suggested it was the voice of whoever had created the Breach. The man really wasn't much of one for comforting thoughts. Neither was Varric, for that matter. "You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker."

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it doing here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it..." Solas shrugged.

"It's evil." Varric shook his head. "Whatever you do, don't touch it."

Not something he needed to be told twice. Matril gave the red stuff a wide berth as he passed. The voice came again, and then a woman's voice. "Someone help me." He stumbled. He knew that voice.

"That is Divine Justinia's voice." Cassandra stared.

#

"Someone help me." The voice came again.

"What's going on here?" Matril went still when he heard his own voice echo from the air.

Cassandra whirled in his direction. "That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But..."

Sound came again, and then images followed. The shape of a tall man, something in his hand. The Divine, floating, trapped by magic. And his own image, opening the door. The Divine yelled at him to run, to warn them, just as the tall man ordered his death. And then the images vanished once more. Cassandra walked towards him, stopping only a pace away. "You were there. Who attacked? And the Divine, is she...?" Cassandra started to reach out as if to grab him, but pointed back at where the images had been instead. "Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"I don't..." Matril searched his mind, but the last thing he remembered was going in the opposite direction to avoid Bridget. He heard something and then... "I don't remember."

"Echoes of what happened here." Solas was looking up at where the images had been. "The Fade bleeds into this place." He shook his head. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons." Cassandra began getting the soldiers into position. "Stand ready." She turned towards him.

He shifted his position slightly, making sure she was between him and the rift. Then he raised his hand.

#

Of course, it couldn't be just any demon. It had to be a huge one with horns and spikes jutting out of it at all angles. Matril rolled out of the way of a blast. That threw lightning. He came up and fired another arrow, moving to find cover. Cassandra and the soldiers had it under control. "We must strip its defenses, wear it down." Cassandra directed the other soldiers.

His palm itched. He looked back up at the rift, and took a deep breath. He sent energy into it, causing it to swirl violently. The giant demon stumbled, and the soldiers were able to close in. He grabbed for more arrows, and began firing, trying to find anything resembling a weak point.

A few more demons escaped the rift, forcing him to dodge attacks. One of the soldiers got her shield between him and the shade, and took a hit that had been meant for him. She stumbled, and he put an arrow through the shade before it could take advantage of her position. She sent him a grateful look before getting her feet back under her.

The demon faltered, and went down. Cassandra waved in his direction, then pointed at the rift. "Do it."

Matril took a deep breath. He lifted his hand. The rift began to contort. He gritted his teeth, putting more energy into it. Stars began to dance in the edge of his vision. The rift shuddered, and then it was almost like something snapped back into him. He felt himself falling, and then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

His first thought was that he'd survived. His second was that as prison cells went, this one was fairly nice. And his third was that there was someone else in the room with him. He sat up and someone gasped. An elven woman dropped a box onto the ground and made a squeaking noise. "I didn't know you were awake, I swear."

"My apologies." He inclined his head. "I did not mean to startle you." She stared at him in confusion for a moment. He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Abruptly she fell to her knees. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." She glanced up. "You are back in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

"Did you say three days?" He stood, and was surprised to not feel shaky.

"Um..." She started to get up. "Yes?"

"Maker. Then..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "The danger is over?"

"The Breach is still in the sky, but that's what they say." She started walking backwards. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've awakened. She said, 'At once.'"

"And where is she?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. "At once,' she said." The woman dashed off.

"Hey, you forgot your..." He glanced down at the box, and then caught a glimpse of himself. "Alright, Matril, remind yourself to send a sternly worded letter to whoever dressed you." He sighed, and went looking for his clothing.

#

"After fighting demons and risking my life against the Breach, I am still a suspect?" Matril stared at the Lord Chancellor.

"You absolutely are." The man glared at him.

"No, he is not." Cassandra gestured.

Matril adopted the poise of a bored young nobleman as he observed the Right and Left Hands of the Divine take turns intimidating the Lord Chancellor. The man waved at him. "And that thing on his hand, all a coincidence?"

"Providence." Cassandra nodded. "The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour."

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker by my guide." He recited the old psalm quietly.

It actually brought a smile to Cassandra's face. "We lost everything..." She nodded to him. "Then, out of nowhere, you came."

Oh. Oh this was going to get out of hand very quickly, wasn't it? What had he told them his name was? Matril Trevelyan. Shit. This was very much not good at all. The Left Hand of the Divine, the most trusted agent of a Divine who had been an undisputed master of the game, looked up at him. "The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."

The Lord Chancellor immediately started objecting again. And Cassandra shut him down. With a book. "You know what this is, Chancellor." She touched the book. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." She advanced on the Lord Chancellor, purpose in every step. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval."

And the Lord Chancellor actually fled. Leliana looked down at the book. "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those that will stand against the chaos." She shook her head. "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice: we must act now." Cassandra turned to face him. "With you at our side."

This was... Yeah. He could definitely work with this. "If this is the Maker's will..." He bowed to Cassandra. "Then I am honored to serve."

#

"The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us."

He nodded to the elven apostate. "It appears I am going to need to locate a shining steed."

"May I suggest a griffin?" Solas raised an eyebrow. "Joke as you will, posturing is necessary. I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

"I would like, very soon, to become the sort of hero that knows what is going on, and what is expected of him." Matril smiled, and glanced down at the marked hand. "With everything that happened on the mountain, I do not recall if I remembered to thank you. According to Varric, I owe you my life."

"Your actions on the mountain have already more than repaid that debt." Solas nodded. He gazed off into the distance. "I will stay, then, at least until the Breach has been closed."

"You were considering otherwise?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion." Solas's eyes went to where a small group of templars were gathered. "Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

"I do indeed." Matril folded his arms. "I doubt Cassandra will allow anyone to put you into a Circle against your will, but if I can be of assistance you need only ask."

"Thank you. I appreciate the thought." Solas smiled. "For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the breach."

#

"Going somewhere?"

He looked over his shoulder to see Varric. "Just need to check on something."

"Sure you're not thinking of escaping?" Varric raised an eyebrow.

"There are entirely too many people out there who think I killed the Divine." Matril pointed. "I do not intend to get any further from those heavily armored people with swords than absolutely necessary."

"Alright then." Varric fell into step next to him. "Where are we going?"

Matril sighed as he started walking. Any attempt to lose the dwarf would likely just raise suspicion, and the last thing he needed was someone alerting Cassandra. Or worse, Sister Leliana. "Up the mountain a short way. I..." Trying to ask around about Bridget would invite too many questions. He'd have expected her to get a message to him by now, but if she thought he was dead, then... "Well, to be honest, I mostly just need to get away from all the people staring at me."

"Can't blame you. You go from being the most wanted person in Thedas to joining the army of the faithful. Most people would spread that out over more than one day."

"There is far too much as stake." Like his freedom and life. "I cannot even begin to think about how many lives were lost on that mountain."

"A lot of good men and women didn't make it out of there." Varric sighed. "For days now, we've been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived."

"It is hard to believe." He saw the mark for first cache, and went to it. With a sigh, he went ahead and uncovered the hidden stash. Everything was still inside, and looked untouched.

"What's this?" Varric glanced at it.

"One only needs be robbed once before taking precautions." Matril removed the sack and tucked it into his belt before continuing on. It took him only a moment to reach the second cache. He brushed aside the covering and saw the sack inside. Tears blurred the edges of his vision. "Bridget..."

"Herald?" Varric took a step closer.

"My retainer." The only friend he had. "She accompanied me to the Conclave." He tucked the second sack into his belt as well. "If she knew I was alive, she would be in Haven. If she thought I was dead, she..." He swallowed. "Would have retrieved these." Matril looked in the direction of the temple. "I'd hoped..."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

#

He glanced down at the mark on his hand. Mixing in with the refugees and assuming a new identity would be easy enough. It wasn't the first time. But this thing would draw attention from every corner.

"Does it trouble you?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

"Mildly distracting." Matril shrugged. "Yet I cannot deny its utility."

They made their way into the war room. Cassandra introduced him more formally to the Inquisition's other leaders. Cullen was not happy about the soldiers that had been lost in the valley. No one was. Josephine turned out to be a Montilyet. He'd heard of the family, but only vaguely. And of course, there was Sister Leliana. Matril bowed. "I am honored to meet all of you."

Unfortunately, they had little to go on save that a Chantry Mother was asking to meet with him in the Hinterlands. Diplomacy, at least, he could certainly do.

#

And now he was in the middle of a war between mages and templars. Exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid. Matril sighed, and saw the mage beginning to gather a spell. He took aim, and put an arrow in the mage's throat before the spell could be loosed. Look, more templars. He shook his head, and notched another arrow.

#

Matril bowed formally to Mother Giselle, and let her speak her piece. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go to Val Royeaux and talk to the clerics?"

"If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn't suggest it."

It wasn't his capability that concerned him, but the fact that more than a few of the clerics wanted him executed. And yet she was right. If the clerics fractured... It was the Game, after all, and there was always a risk.

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us..." Mother Giselle looked him over. "But I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us..." She looked up at the sky. "Or destroy us. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can."

He watched her go, considering her words. A frightening thought, and yet an intriguing one. Matril could almost see Margot smiling as he weighed the possibilities. The potential here was... Slowly, he started to smile.

#

A dozen or so rams, a few stolen caches of supplies, and adding yet another cult to the group of Inquisition faithful seemed to do much to increase the warmth of their welcome in the refugee camp. And now it appeared Cassandra was actually suggesting they go take care of the rogue mages and templars.

"They'll be expecting attacks to come from this direction." He pointed at the map. "I am not particularly inclined to try bracing prepared mages in their stronghold. If we circle around this way, they won't see us coming." He looked up at Cassandra. "We catch them off guard, take out the most dangerous, the soldiers should be able to mop up the rest." And there'd be less chance of him getting hurt.

"I will speak with Corporal Vale." She nodded.

#

From his vantage point, he directed his arrows at the mages, preventing them from bringing their spells to bear on his companions. Several were dead before they even realized they were being shot at, and then he was changing positions. No few of the sellswords fled when the mages died.

He was about to suggest that they head back to Haven when Varric 'helpfully' reminded Cassandra there were still the rogue templars to deal with. Matril sighed, and followed her in the direction from which the templars had come.

#

At least they'd managed to arrange a carriage to take them to Val Royeaux. Though an hour into the bumpy journey had him wishing for a horse instead. He closed his eyes and leaned back. Sister Leliana was clearly upset and grieving the loss of the Divine, which did serve to distract her from examining him more closely. And their work in the Hinterlands appeared to have won him Cassandra's whole-hearted support. Solas and Varric also seemed charitably inclined, and despite Varric also claiming to be a prisoner he was along for the trip to Val Royeaux as well.

Harritt, the Inquisition's smith, had outfitted him with new gear and a rather excellent bow. Better than he'd had in some time. And various nobles were already starting to send donations and other moneys to finance the 'Inquisition'. Some of the amounts he'd seen in Josephine's ledger were rather impressive. Religion paid well, it seemed. He'd already doubled the take in his newly re-hidden caches, and it wasn't enough to have been missed.

This Herald business was catching on. Half the people he talked to were addressing him as 'your worship'. And bowing. Two people had actually asked for his blessing, and he'd overheard someone asking if he was going to be added to the Chant of Light. And the Right Hand of Divine Justinia, the Champion of Orlais herself, was acting like his personal bodyguard. If he could keep this up, well... Even Margot had never dreamed of something like this.

#

Val Royeaux spread out before him. He remembered the first time he'd seen it. He'd been barely fifteen, wearing a mask marked with the cardinal sigil of house Labelle as he accompanied the count. And Margot.

Nearby, a woman gave a shocked gasp, and staggered backwards. For a moment, he thought he'd been recognized, and then he realized the woman's eyes were on Cassandra's breastplate. "I think everyone knows who we are, Seeker." Varric's voice was dry.

He had nothing to worry about. Orlais didn't have a long enough attention span for anyone here to remember him.

#

"Look up in the sky." He pointed with the marked hand, drawing the attention of the crowd. "I alone survived the Breach - and I can end it."

"It's true." Cassandra stepped to his shoulder. "The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late."

The Mother might have been able to draw the crowd back to her, except one of the newly arrived templars punched her in the back of the head. Matril actually reached for his bow before catching himself. The crowd stared at the templars almost in shock. No few of the templars stared at the templars in shock.

They braced Lucius after. "And what if I really am the Herald of Andraste?"

Lucius didn't listen. Matril watched the templars leave. But then, Lucius hadn't been the one he'd been addressing. The dark templar with the Fereldan accent turned back to look at them before leaving. He wasn't the only one.

#

"Grand Enchanter Fiona herself." Matril frowned as he watched the woman vanish back into the shadows. If she were a better player of the game, he would be concerned. Of course, if she were a better player of the game, the mage-templar war might not have begun. "Something to consider."

"Come." Cassandra nodded. "Let us return to Haven."

#

He looked at the elven woman, then at the pile of dead half-naked guards, and then back at the elven woman. "Sera..." He smiled. "Welcome to the Inquisition."

#

"Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army. We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is. If you were a man of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges." The Marquis sneered at him.

Before Matril could respond, frost coated the Marquis. "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house..." Madam Vivienne herself walked down the stairs. "To my guests. You know such rudeness is..." She shook her head. "Intolerable."

"Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon."

"You should." She stopped in front of him. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" She turned towards Matril. "My lord, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

"The ravings of a failed chevaliar hold no interest for me." Matril twitched a shoulder. "I suggest you let him go drown his sorrows in whatever brothel is desperate enough to let him in the door."

The noblewoman behind the marquis tittered slightly, and Vivienne added her own bit of verbal castigation before sending the marquis on his way. "I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

He bowed formally. "A pleasure you make your acquaintance, Lady Vivienne."

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries." She led him away from the main gathering. "With Divine Justina dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

"Your presence will be more than welcome."

"Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that."

#

"It's a shame the templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital." For a man that had left the templars, Cullen certainly appeared to be taking their actions personally.

"I am not convinced all of them have." Matril shook his head. "If this is a holy war against dark magic, having the templars on our side would be the best option." And severely decrease the odds of him being set on fire or having a horde of angry peasants with pitchforks coming after them.

"We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk." Josephine waved her pen.

"They are powerful, ambassador, but more desperate than you realize." Cassandra shook her head.

"We will need greater influence either way." Matril folded his arms.

"That is something you can help with." Cassandra nodded to him.

#

"Could this have something to do with the Blight then?" Matril raised an eyebrow at Leliana.

"I do not believe so." Leliana shook her head. "The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it." Leliana waved a hand. "Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out." She nodded. "Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."

"I will find him." The last thing he wanted to be was on Leliana's bad side. If that meant tracking down a Warden, he'd track down a Warden.

#

Alright, so he'd track down a Warden and a qunari mercenary captain. He started to head back out of the Chantry, but Josephine waved towards him. He headed in her direction. "Lady Josephine."

"Lord Trevelyan. May I have a moment? I'd like to discuss your parents."

Well, this was going to be fun. "What would you like to know?" He just hoped 'who are they' wasn't the first question. The Trevelyans were a fairly large family. As long as each branch thought he belonged to one of the others...

"I'd like to dispatch a courier asking the banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us. What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?"

"I am..." He rubbed his neck. "My parents and I are not on good terms. It is likely such a request would be more detrimental than helpful. Those that wish to aid will do so. I suggest allowing them to cajole the others into assisting."

"I see." Josephine made a note. "Val Royeaux has noted your lineage. It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not so much as we'd hoped."

"Oh?"

"You are from Ostwick. Orlesian nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat..." Josephine shrugged. "Quaint."

She did have a diplomat's gift for understatement. "They are just upset that we have more fashion sense than they do." He winked at her.

Josephine chuckled. "I would be careful saying such things where they could be overheard. Such talk could easily start a war."

"Didn't one of the conflicts between Cumberland and Val Chevin start over a hat?"

"That is the popular story, anyway." Josephine smiled. "This place is no bastion of civilization. I hope you don't find the living conditions in Haven too rustic for someone of your station."

"It..." He shook his head. "Does leave something to be desired, yes."

#

It took a while before he could find some time to himself. Once again, he crept out of camp, though this time he carried two bottles with him. He sat one on a rock, then slumped down to lean against the rock and stared up at the sky. "Atrast tunsha, my friend." He lifted the bottle to Bridget's memory.

And then he flung it into the valley and buried his face in his arms.

#

Blackwall didn't know anything, but bringing him in would likely focus Leliana's attention. Hadn't there been rumors about Sister Leliana and one of the Wardens? The more her attention was divided, the better. "Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition welcomes you."

#

First a Warden, and now a member of the Ben-Hassrath. Maybe he was going to be the least of Leliana's concerns. He turned towards Cassandra. "There is still plenty of daylight. Perhaps we should look into those missing scouts."

"I agree." Cassandra nodded.

#

He handed Cullen the parchment with the details on the Blades of Hessarian. His personal army, apparently. Nice to have a backup plan, anyway. "The soldiers are starting to actually look like soldiers." He nodded towards the training grounds.

"Even with the additions of the Chargers and these Blades, we are still somewhat fewer than I would like." Cullen folded his arms. "Though the nobleman you spoke to in the Hinterlands is bringing his entire household guard to join our ranks."

"Then perhaps it is time we speak with the templars again." Matril nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

"The Herald of Andraste." A man was walking towards him. "Lord Esmeral Abernache. Honored to participate. It is not unlike the second dispersal of the reclaimed Dales." The man lifted a hand to greet one of Matril's companions. "Ah, Lady Vivienne. We met at last summer's ball? The Duke introduced us."

Vivienne gave him a polite smile before continuing on. "Indeed. I could not possibly forget the occasion."

Lord Esmeral turned back towards Matril. "The Lord Seeker is willing to hear our petition about closing the Breach. A credit to our alliance with the Inquisition. Care to mark the moment?" Esmeral's smile was visible behind his mask. "Ten Orlesian houses walk with you."

Not the ten he would have chosen, but solid enough. A few familiar faces, though none that had seen him unmasked. Abernache. A gossip slightly less harmless than he appeared. Not as formidable as his brother had been. That man's assassination had cost Margot a valuable ally. "It's a shining day to have the best of Orlais in step with the Inquisition." Matril gave a small bow. "The first of many inspirational and influential partnerships, I hope."

"Oh, you're a natural." Lord Esmeral took a second look at him. "People will give you anything."

And had, over the years. Some more than they could afford. Matril smiled, and began laying groundwork. And uncovering a few existing foundations. Across the bridge, he could see Vivienne doing something similar. Perhaps between the two of them they could overcome Cassandra's glaring at everyone. Many noble families gave younger sons to the templars. The potential alliances to be made here today were considerable. He could almost feel Margot's presence.

#

"I present Knight-Templar Ser Delrin Barris, second son of Bann Jevrin Barris of Ferelden." The speaker gestured. "Ser Barris, may I be so honored as to present Lord Esmeral Abernache...?"

The speaker trailed off as Ser Barris caught sight of Matril and made his way towards him. "I'm the one who sent word to Cullen. He said the Inquisition works to close this Breach in the Veil." Ser Barris looked around. "I didn't think you'd bring such lofty company."

"Barris..." Lord Abernache was clearly insulted. "Moderate holdings, your family. And the second son?" He scoffed.

"This..." Ser Barris gave Abernache a look, but otherwise ignored him. "Promise of status has garndered interest from the Lord Seeker. Beyond sense." The templar shook his head. "The sky burns with magic, but he ignores all calls to action until your friends arrive."

A templar he was not, but he had ears. That didn't seem right. He turned towards Cassandra. "Should a Seeker lead the templars this way?"

"In an emergency, if there's no other recourse, but his goal should be to restore them to order." Cassandra frowned.

"He has taken command." Ser Barris straightened. "Permanently."

"If he feels there is a holy mandate..." Cassandra shook her head.

"That is what the Lord Seeker claims, and our commanders parrot him." Ser Barris sighed. "The Lord Seeker's actions make no sense. He promised to restore the Order's honor, then marched us here to wait? Templars should know their duty, even when held from it."

"A templar who remembers his responsibilities?" Vivienne's voice held a note of approval. "I am reassured."

"Win over the Lord Seeker, and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach." Ser Barris met his eyes, and Matril saw a hint of desperation behind the man's own gaze.

He gave Ser Barris a small bow. "That's why the Inquisition came, Ser Barris."

"I'd tell you your chances, but the officers are a mystery lately. We've been asked to accept much, after that shameful display in Val Royeaux. Our truth changes on the hour."

"Don't keep your betters waiting, Barris." Lord Abernache straightened. "There's important work for those born to it."

Politics, double-dealing, lies, and conspiracies. Matril followed Ser Barris into the redoubt. Now this was familiar territory.

#

"The Lord Seeker has a..." Ser Barris hesitated. "Request before you meet him." He led Matril to a set of flags. "These are the Standards. An honored rite, centered on the people, the Maker, and the Order. The Lord Seeker asks that you perform the rite so he may see the order in which you honor them."

Matril slowly nodded. "And if I fail?"

"There's no 'correct' answer. The ritual simply shows watchers who you are and what you value." Ser Barris gestured to the flags.

"Fancy title aside, I don't actually command the Inquisition."

"That doesn't seem to matter." Ser Barris turned to face him. "The Lord Seeker changed everything to meet you. Not the Inquisition - you. By name."

That was cause for concern. In more ways than one. "Why?"

"I don't know. He's been fixated on you ever since your horde of nobles arrived."

Abernache huffed with disapproval. "The Lord Seeker makes us shuffle flags around. Refuse. Let's meet the man already."

The Lord Seeker wanted to learn from this. Any information given could provide the man with an advantage. No matter what order he placed the standards, some among the watchers would be alienated to some degree or another. Not to mention acceding to the request could change some of the balance of power for the upcoming negotiations. For all the pomp and circumstance, the templars needed the Inquisition as much as the Inquisition needed the templars. When there was no move in the game that provided an advantage, it was often best to refuse to play. "The Lord Seeker can't delay any longer, Barris. Take us to him."

"The Lord Seeker's request about the rituals was -" Ser Barris shook his head.

"Horseshit, my servants might say -" Abernache nodded. "Making you, and by extension me, do this busywork."

Ser Barris sighed. "Right. The Lord Seeker can deal with this. Follow me."

#

Ser Barris and Lord Abernache continued disliking each other as they stood waiting for the Lord Seeker. Still, the argument was valuable. Matril was learning things about both men and their respective positions. Not all of it flattering. Ser Barris cut off whatever remark he'd been about to make when the door opened. "Knight-Captain?"

The man who entered was imposing. "You were expecting the Lord Seeker. He sent me to die for you." Something was off about the man.

Lord Abernache picked it up as well, almost immediately retreating. "He is not well." He whispered as he passed Matril.

"Knight Captain Denam, I brought the Inquisition's representatives. Will the Lord Seeker not see them?"

"So this is the herald of change." The Knight Captain stared at him. "You are why everything must be moved ahead."

Things were going badly. He made a slight gesture towards Cassandra, and hoped she caught it. Vivienne certainly did, shifting her grip on her staff just slightly. "Knight-Captain Denam, I am expected by the Lord Seeker. Where is he?"

"Watching. Changing everything." The Knight Captain shook his head. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."

Ser Barris stepped towards his commanding officer. "Knight-Captain, I must know what's going on."

"You were all supposed to be changed. Now we must purge the questioning knights." Shit. Things were about to get bad. Matril took a step back as his hand went for his bow. The Knight-Captain raised his voice. "The Elder One is coming. No one will leave Therinfal who is not stained red."

"Maker's Breath..." Ser Barris went for his own weapons as the templars that had arrived with the knight captain began attacking.

#

"Is the knight captain alive?" Matril looked up from where he was kneeling next to one of the templars that had accompanied Ser Barris. The man would live, but he'd be out of action for some time. Perhaps permanently.

"Barely. If you use a healing elixir, he may survive. If he even deserves it."

"We'll heal him." There were questions to be answered. "Let's judge the knight-captain after we find his master."

"I agree." Blackwall rose and took up a defensive position near Matril. "We've no idea what came over him."

Vivienne scoffed. "He hardly deserves our charity."

Ser Barris rose. "The knight-captain's keys. I would question the Lord Seeker about this 'Elder One.'"

#

Around them, men fought and died. With the aid of his companions, Matril set about saving as many as he could. Ser Barris, Cassandra, and Blackwall all kept their shields between him and enemy forces, freeing both him and Vivienne to use their more ranged abilities. Matril focused on the archers that attacked. Slowly, more templars rallied to their side. Others drew the wounded to fall back points.

He sent an arrow into an archer that perched on a roof, then leapt out of the way of an attacker. Cassandra was there, immediately coming to his defense. Matril twisted, and sent an arrow into one creeping up on Vivienne before moving into a back to back position with the mage.

They entered the room that had belonged to the knight-captain. There was a body on the floor. Ser Barris gasped. "That's the knight-vigilant. The Lord Seeker told us he died at the Conclave."

Blackwall shook his head. "This man died of a sword-thrust."

Matril walked to the desk and began looking at the papers. They were more than a little disturbing. This was... This was more than a mere game. He collected the papers before securing them to hand over to Leliana.

#

The Lord Seeker was waiting at the top of the stairs. Matril strode towards him. Someone needed to answer for this. The Lord Seeker turned, and then caught Matril. He felt the sensation of being dragged forward and then...

#

He was back in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Kneeling bodies, charred and still burning, decorated the blackened chamber. And ahead, figures, standing and waiting. As he grew closer he realized they were the familiar figures of Josephine and Cullen. And then Leliana stepped out of the shadows. She smiled. "Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?" She turned a knife over in her hands. "Everything tells me about you." She walked to behind Cullen. "So will this: watch." She laid the blade against Cullen's throat.

"A demon." Matril narrowed his eyes. "Am I supposed to scream in terror next?"

The blade opened Cullen's throat, and his form fell to the ground silently. Matril's voice came from the form that looked like Leliana. "Scream in terror next." The figure that looked like Leliana vanished into the shadows once more.

#

Josephine's form started to move. "Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker. Do you know what the Inquisition can become? You'll see. When I'm done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend. Then I will be you."

Being him. Matril shook his head. But who was he? If he didn't know, how could the demon? Matril took a deep breath, and then stepped into one of his other identities. Gabriel de Vallen smiled. "The Elder One wants to become divine?" The accent was western Orlais, nasal and airy. "He could at least try for something original." He scoffed.

The image wavered just slightly. "Glory is coming. And the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way."

"Wake me when you've something interesting to say." Gabriel rolled his eyes at the demon. Josephine stepped back into the shadows.

"I am not your toy." Cullen's voice came from behind him. "I am Envy, and I will know you. Tell me, 'Herald,' in your mind." Cullen stabbed something that had his shape. "Tell me what you feel." The demon mimicked his voice, half accented half not. "Tell me what you see."

He continued forward, and let Gabriel fall away. His left leg dragged slightly, the walk of a soldier with an old injury. And he became Renaldo Gustave.

Figures were speaking. "The Inquisition's strength rivals any kingdom in Thedas."

His voice came from the figure, switching between accents. "Our reach begins to match my ambition - but we will strive for more."

Gustave smirked, and when he spoke it was with the smoother, lilting tones of Antiva. "And who are we conquering first?" He spread his hands as he let his voice ring from the walls. "Shall we spread our wings against Nevarra? The streets there are ripe with carrion. They will fall before they even know we've arrived."

The images flickered and vanished. He kept moving, shedding Gustave once more.

#

"You gather around the Chantry." The voice came from all around. "Will you grieve when the Elder One topples it?"

Rivain filled his voice as he became Entaro. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun."

The images flickered and broke apart once more. He shed Entaro, and kept moving.

#

"Do you see how glorious my Inquisition will be after you die at the hands of the Elder One?"

Byron was about to respond, but another voice did before he could. "You're hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?"

#

"Wait."

He was halfway out of the room when the new voice pulled him back.

"Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help. You, not Envy."

"Who are you?" Byron's voice betrayed Fereldan roots. "I've seen you before. Have I?"

"I've been watching. I'm Cole. We're inside you. Or I am. You're always inside you." The strange looking young man tilted his head. "It's crowded. It's easy to hear, harder to be part of what you're hearing. But I'm here, hearing, helping. I hope. Envy hurt you, is hurting you. I tried to help. Then I was here, in the hearing. It's -" The young man shook his head. "It's not usually like this."

"I should certainly hope not." Byron folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Alright. How do I get out?"

"Making more, many, moving past and moving on. Yes." Cole nodded. "Keep going up. All of this is Envy: people, places, power. If you keep going, changing, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more."

#

"What do you say to your crimes, heretic?" It was trying to do the Antivan accent now, but kept adding Orlais.

Mother Giselle's voice answered. "This is a farce. I demand justice."

"Have it." It was Orlais again. "Take her to the gallows."

Vladus shook his head, and Tevinter danced on his tongue. "A gallows? How rustic. A guillotine is so much more festive."

#

"Keep going up. There are more of you than there are of Envy. That tires it out." Cole nodded encouragingly.

Falo returned the nod.

#

"The Herald marches here next, bringing even more demons."

"The Maker will take them to his side." Salin shook his head. A tear rolled down the Nevarran's cheek. "Blessed are they who stand before he corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

#

"You wish to be difficult? Then see the legacy of the Inquisition. Its followers hosts to demons. Your world - ashes. Show me what you'd do with them!"

Zale stepped over a corpse, his face set in grim lines. "In death, sacrifice."

There was a strange shrieking noise.

"Almost there." Cole's voice was encouraging. "Keep going up. You're making it hard for Envy to think. It'll probably come out soon. It's angry. But that's okay. So are most of you."

He shed Zale, and kept moving.

#

"Unfair, unfair." A being that wore his shape grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. "Too many pieces, and they don't fit. Which face is yours?"

"An interesting question." Rickol's accent was distinctively dwarven. "I've been wondering that myself."

"We'll start again. More pain this time. The Elder One still comes..." The thing reached up to touch his head.

"It's frightened of you." Cole's voice spoke up.

"Get out of -"

Rickol caught the thing's arm, and then headbutted him across the bridge of the nose.

#

He was at the top of the stairs once more, with the demon crawling away. He shed Rickol, and for a moment sought for the right name. Matril Trevelyan. "An imposter."

The templars were in rough shape, but they were holding. Barris sighed. "That monster ensured we weren't prepared. I still don't know what we're up against."

"An envy demon." Matril took a deep breath, and became... He looked down at the marked hand as the others spoke, discussing the Lord Seeker's fate and what it meant. Then he clenched the fist, and decided. "You will need to bring your best to stop it." He looked up at Barris. "You will need to be your best."

"Our best..." Barris met his eyes, and then nodded. "Templar. What is Envy?"

"A coward, brother."

"It studies, makes less mistakes. But most of all, it hides." The templars began to rally.

Ser Barris turned back towards him. "We need our veterans. Our commanders have turned, but the lieutenants may still be fighting." He looked around, and squared his shoulders. "We'll hold the hall. You find the lieutenants and the uncorrupted lyrium stores. Bring them here, and I'll give you Envy."

He wasn't sure who he was, but apparently the current Matril was someone who enjoyed being in harm's way. This Matril, at least, wasn't afraid of this fight. An odd feeling. He gave Ser Barris a confident smile. "We'll return shortly."

"Show those things no mercy."

#

The templars were angry and solid. The soldiers of Andraste fought. Matril smiled as he put an arrow through one of the red ones. "Get to Ser Barris in the Great Hall. He'll explain."

"Maker go with you, Herald of Andraste." The lieutenant saluted.

#

A room full of crazy. With crazy painted all over the walls, and a bust of the empress of Orlais. A paper full of crazy was pinned to her head with a knife. Matril looked around. Was it the Lord Seeker or the Envy demon that had never heard the word subtle before?

"The Elder One wants her dead." Matril blinked when he saw Cole standing there. The strange young man nodded to him. "Empress Celene. He hates her, haunts her, wants her dead, but hides why. He hid other things, too."

He heard the others enter behind him and turned towards them. When he turned back, Cole had vanished once more. Blackwall blinked when he saw the bust. "This 'Elder One' picked quite a target. That's the Empress of Orlais."

"I wonder why this 'Elder One' wants her dead." This didn't seem like a machination of the game. There was fervor here.

#

They found the lyrium, and headed back to the Great Hall. A few more of the red ones blocked their path. Cassandra watched as the Herald managed to kill two of them with a single arrow. He was certainly more formidable than she'd initially given him credit for back in the valley. She smiled as she cut down one of the red things trying to get past.

#

Matril took a high point in the Great Hall, gesturing for Vivienne to take the other. The templars focused their power on the barrier that sheltered the demon. Red ones began passing through. He drew back his bow, took aim, and fired. "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide."

#

The barrier fell. Matril signaled his companions as the templars began to collapse from exhaustion. "The beast." Ser Barris saluted to him. "End it."

Matril returned the salute, and started moving.

#

"Too many of you. Shadows dancing on figures that never were. Now I'm no one." The Envy demon paced and glared as they approached.

"Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive. I used to be like you." Cole was suddenly there, standing with them. "I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be, either."

It shifted as they fought it, taking different forms. A few more of the red templars joined it in the fight. Matril put an arrow in the throat of one moving in on Cassandra. It felt more like giving mercy than taking a life. He turned, and fired another arrow into the demon.

#

Cassandra panted, and then looked up to see the Herald offering her a hand back to her feet. She smiled, and accepted.

#

They walked back up the stairs to find the templars coming towards them, along with Lord Abernache. "Herald. I sincerely apologize for losing countenance amidst the chaos. That was..." Lord Abernache adjusted his mask slightly. "Unfortunate." It took him a moment to remember what the man was talking about. It seemed it had been a dozen lifetimes ago the man had dived under a table to avoid the fighting. And a lifetime more ago, he'd have been under the table next to the man. "I do hope it won't affect our concord."

Matril smiled and inclined his head graciously. "It is as valued as ever."

"As you say." Lord Abernache withdrew.

Leaving him facing Ser Barris. A few spots of blood stood out on the man's dark skin. "The demon is dead. Andraste be praised: she shielded you from its touch." Ser Barris looked toward his fellows before turning back to Matril. "We've numbers across Thedas, but we let this happen. Our officers either failed to see it, or were complicit." He took a deep breath before setting his shoulders. "The templars are ready to hear what the Inquisition needs of us."

He turned, looking over his shoulder at where the Breach was visible in the sky. Margot had once said that the wheel of history could turn on a single moment. And this was such a moment. Matril took a deep breath of his own before turning back to Ser Barris. "You need to hear this. To feel truth in your hearts. I am the will of Our Lady manifest. I am the Herald of Andraste. She sent me to remind you of your sacred duty: a shield against dark magic. Knights who will end the Breach."

Ser Barris stared at him, eyes glistening. "We will not deny Our Lady's will. Not anymore. But the Order is leaderless, gutted by betrayal. We must rebuild it."

The order could be bound to them in chains. Or they could be bound in far stronger bonds. A step forward, and Matril put his hand on Ser Barris's houlder. "Your Order is a symbol that holds the people's respect. That cannot die today." He stepped away, and swept his gaze over the others assembled. "We offer you an alliance. Supplies, weapons, grounds to shelter you. All we ask is you help us close the Breach."

"Do we take the Inquisition's terms, brothers and sisters?" Ser Barris turned to face his fellows. As one, they started to cheer, and saluted with their hands over their hearts. Ser Barris smiled. "The templars will come. I hope your stronghold is ready."

Matril looked back over their new allies. A form stood near the back, the familiar shape of Cole. "We'll be ready for anyone willing to throw their hat in with us."


	4. Chapter 4

The Inquisition's leadership looked torn between patting him on the back and waving their shaming fingers. Leliana felt he should have asked for more from the alliance. Matril shook his head at her. "They've been dragged around long enough, and they've one rebellion in their pockets already. They are here by choice. Believers. I would rather have volunteers at my back than conscripts." He took a deep breath. "We still need to prepare for them. I have some contacts in the lyrium trade. Regular lyrium." No use letting that knowledge go to waste, though he didn't miss the narrowing of Leliana's eyes.

Josephine, however, merely nodded. "If you'd be so kind as to put me in touch with them, I'll secure funding. How many templars are expected?"

"A few dozen veterans are coming ahead of the rest, to help seal the Breach." Leliana glanced down at her report.

"How soon until these veterans arrive?" Matril asked.

He and the rest nearly jumped out of their skin when Cole answered. "They're almost here. Templars don't like to be late."

"Maker." Cullen and Cassandra both went for their swords.

"Wait." Matril stepped towards Cole protectively, waving them away.

Cole turned towards him, shaggy blond hair nearly obscuring his strange blue eyes. "I came with you to help. I would have told you before, but you were busy."

"That's fine, Cole." Matril smiled at him. "You just startled us, appearing out of thin air." Appearing at all. He'd almost dismissed the man as a figment of his imagination.

"I wasn't air, I was here. You didn't see me. Most people don't until I let them." Cole climbed off the war table.

"Call the guards." Cassandra still held her sword, as did Cullen. "This creature is not what you -"

"A moment, please, Cassandra." Leliana interrupted. "I would like to hear why he came."

Well, at least Cole would provide a suitable distraction for Leliana. And he owed the young man. "I couldn't have been able to defeat the envy demon without Cole."

Cassandra glared at him. "But what does he want now?"

"To help." Matril met her eyes. "The same as the rest of us."

"I won't be in the way." Cole's head bobbed slightly under the oversized hat. "Tiny, no trouble, no notice taken unless you want them to."

Cullen shook his head. "You're not honestly suggesting we give him run of the camp?"

"Not freely, perhaps, but it seems a waste to -" Josephine blinked. "Hold on."

They all started looking around. Cole had vanished once more. "That..." Matril shrugged. "Is one hell of a trick."

#

"Leliana." Josephine smiled when the spymaster entered her office. "What brings you here?"

Leliana returned the smile. "The Herald handled himself well, at Therinfal."

"He certainly did." Josephine touched a pile of parchment. "Every noble he spoke with has all but fallen over themselves to increase their support of the Inquisition. And the Trevelyans have been generous with their donations as well."

"I see." Leliana nodded. "He seems adept at the Game. Curious that I have not heard of him before. Which branch of the family does he come from?"

"I am not actually certain." Josephine glanced down at her notes. "He is not on good terms with his immediate family."

"Hmmm..." Leliana tapped her chin. "And these contacts of his?"

"Very useful." Josephine handed her one of the pieces of parchment. "You may be able to make further use of them."

"Indeed." Leliana accepted the parchment.

#

He found Josephine speaking with a dwarven woman regarding lyrium. It took him a second to recognize Madam Korpin, and he kept his face steady. Her eyes widened slightly when she recognized him, but she said nothing. He waited until they had concluded their business, then followed Josephine into her office. Josephine frowned at a piece of parchment. "Access to lyrium makes us rather more formidable than the Chantry anticipated. We are becoming a challenge." She sighed. "Sadly, the remaining clerics appear to be consolidating the Chantry's power instead of comforting the masses."

Matril nodded. "The opening moves were made years ago. Pity it took the Divine's murder to draw attention to the game." He shook his head. "And yet it is still needed. I think it may be the only thread binding us together."

"I could not agree more." Josephine set her pen on the writing board. "Andraste's Chant is familiar across kingdoms, a source of many shared customs. That is the crucial point. Common ground is the start of all negotiations."

Which is why pretending to be a brother had been one of his favorite disguises, once upon a time. "A shared faith is often enough to render people no longer strangers."

"Precisely." Josephine smiled. "And these similar interests are merely where we begin. We must learn to think beyond our own wants to secure peace in Thedas."

He laughed as he stood up. "And so the Inquisition steers the history of the world. Let us hope Andraste guides us to the proper course."

"That brings to mind a question, if I may." Josephine picked up her pen again. "The remaining grand clerics sent a missive inquiring about events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They demand to know whether the Inquisition officially claims that Andraste saved you from the Breach." She looked up at him. "If it were you, how would you reply?"

Matril took a deep breath as he considered the question. There were many answers, each of which would unfold different roads and paths. All of which led to a variety of pitfalls. Yet if it was faith guiding them... "I'd tell the Chantry that Andraste herself shielded me from harm."

"I'd truly like to hear the debates that would raise in the halls of Val Royeaux." Josephine nodded. "Thank you for your thoughts. A good day to you."

#

Vivienne was pleased at the results of their trip to Therinfal, and almost immediately began playing the angles. They danced briefly around the negotiations, and he noted a trace of satisfaction on her face as they began matching each other move for move. The First Enchanter was nearly as adept at the game as Margot had been. But then, the Duke had been one of Margot's favorite allies and opponents.

Though talking to Vivienne did have its own dangers. They had, after all, met several times. He'd been younger then, and hidden behind both mask and false name. But if she did recognize him, and remember where she'd met him before... No. She was a better player of the game than that. She wouldn't have joined the Inquisition if she did not need them, and thus it was in her best interest to ensure he was not discredited. As long as their interests coincided, she might just be his most valuable ally. "I've often wondered why mages were kept out of the Chantry. After all, who knows the dangers of magic better than a mage?"

Her eyes brightened. "A curious idea. Such twists and turns your mind takes." Vivienne smiled. "It's something to consider, my dear."

#

"Krem." Matril found the man near Iron Bull's tent. "I spoke with Leliana. We'd like your people to check out the lay of the land in Redcliffe, see what the mages are up to."

"I'll get some of the boys together." Krem nodded.

"No one has given you any trouble for being from Tevinter, have they?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"Any that might have stopped when they got a look at the chief." Krem chuckled.

Matril glanced over at Iron Bull. "Yeah. I suppose so."

#

"Solas." Matril called the man's name as he headed up to where the mage usually stayed.

"Herald." Solas greeted him. "So the templars will put their powers to use sealing the Breach. Any group corrupted by a demon must be watched carefully. At least they know how to fight."

"The templars are a powerful force." Matril nodded. He gave Solas an appraising look. "They haven't given you any trouble, have they?"

"I know how to keep out of the way." Solas shook his head.

"Forgive me for..." Matril frowned, then shook his head. "The thing affecting the templars was not just a simple demon."

"Fair enough. Bear in mind the demon, however powerful, was but a single minion of the Elder One. Speaking of which..." Solas turned his gray eyes towards Matril. "You should ready yourself."

"For?"

"This Elder One. You have now interfered with his plans twice. Once at the Temple of Sacred Ashes..." Solas gestured as he spoke. "And now again with the templars. A being who aspires to godhood is unlikely to ignore such an affront."

"And cannot afford to ignore it." Matril nodded. "He will have to make a countermove soon, or risk the questions of his allies." Interesting how quickly a supposed hermit apostate had gotten to the heart of the matter. Though there was something to be said for the study of history. "Any advice you can give on what he might do would be welcome. You've a different perspective than most, and might see something the rest of us miss."

"I will provide what guidance I can." Solas clasped his hands behind his back.

#

Varric seemed rather happy at the turn of events, even encouraging him to throw a party. He almost wished they did have the resources for a decent banquet. More soldiers were gathering, and projecting confidence was almost as good as actually having confidence. Cullen was both pleased they'd salvaged the templars and angry that it has been necessary in the first place. Leliana was focused on dealing with a traitor she'd located in their midst, and he left her to it rather than risk her attention falling on him while in such a mood. Sera was... well, he'd have to go with a bit crazy, though he was starting to like her. She might be crazy, but at least she was the right kind of crazy.

Blackwall was almost as disturbed as he was about the demon, despite not actually meeting it. Something about the man read as just a little off, though maybe that was due to being a Warden. Many Wardens had unpleasant pasts, and he couldn't blame the man for wanting to keep such a thing behind him.

Cole was... It was hard not fighting the young man disturbing, considering he'd actually been in... Cole had seen him changing, shifting between names, and yet he'd said nothing. And most of the camp seemed to go by him as though he wasn't present at all. It was oddly disturbing.

And Cassandra just appeared irritated by the entire thing. He found her chewing out a templar. She turned on him, only to back down a moment later and admit she was actually rather pleased by what he had done. It appeared that in her, at least, he'd found a staunch ally.

Which meant if she found out the truth, she was going to be first in line to stab him.

#

Alone, Matril found himself drawn to a small undercroft beneath the Chantry. A small shrine was present, with a statue of Andraste that was worn with age. He sat, staring up at the figure.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he realized he was no longer alone in the room. "Mother Giselle."

"Herald." She walked over, and then sat near him on a small stool. "You seem troubled."

"In the long hours of the night, when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your Light remains." He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "I hadn't been to the Chantry in some years when I came to the Temple of Sacred Ashes." He took a deep breath. "The first night I was here, I heard the Divine speak, and after..." Bridget's face danced in his mind. "I sat on a rock with a friend and we watched the stars together." He glanced up at Mother Giselle. "She died, at the Conclave. I wish she were here now."

"Nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." Mother Giselle put her hand on his shoulder.

"She was always very good at knowing when I needed a swift kick in the ass." Matril let out a small laugh. "I should not be moping." He rose, looking again at the statue. "There is work still to do."

"Herald?" She looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"If you wish confession, I am here."

"I..." Matril nodded. "Another time, perhaps."

#

He was quiet as they headed into the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Some small part of him expected to be smote down for daring to speak in Andraste's name. And another part of him was somehow terrified he would not be. Above, the Breach swirled slowly in the sky, like a baleful eye glaring down at him. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

It took him a moment to realize Solas was speaking to him, and he followed the elven man's instructions. He stood near where the rift had once been, looking at the green energy trailing down from the sky. Cassandra stood nearby, her stance clearly protective. Guardian rather than jailer. When she caught him glancing at her, she gave him an encouraging smile.

Solas gave direction to the templars, and then... Matril took a deep breath, then another one. "I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here." He lifted his marked hand as he felt the energy from the templars flowing towards him. Something... shifted. Changed. The power rose up in and then out of him, up towards the Breach.

The Breach convulsed in response, twisting and swirling in multiple directions and then...

It was gone.

#

Cassandra stood, watching the Herald as he watched the celebrants. He'd seemed dazed after they'd closed the Breach, but had recovered quickly. She'd expected him to join in the revelry, but he seemed content to merely observe. She walked over to him. "Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory." She turned to look at him. "Word of your heroism has spread."

"I'm no hero." He shook his head, and gestured at the soldiers reveling below. "Look at them. Faith brought us here. Luck just put me at the center."

She gave him an approving nod. "A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less." His modesty did him credit. "But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

"Cassandra, I..."

Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off by the sound of a bell. Below, she heard Cullen's shout. "Forces approaching. To arms."

Next to her, the Herald unslung his bow as she readied her shield. They nodded to each other before heading down.

#

It rather figured. He'd finally worked up the nerve to be honest with the Seeker, and now they were being invaded. There was probably a lesson to be learned here. And the best part appeared to be that no one knew who was actually invading them. He was about to ask Cullen about the scouts when someone knocked on the gate. A voice came from the other side, a voice with a Tevinter accent. "If someone could open this, I'd appreciate it."

Matril gestured to Cullen and they both headed for the gate. On the other side was a man kneeling on the ground, trying to pick himself up using a mage staff. The man nodded when he saw them approaching. "Ah. I'm here to warn you. Fashionably late, I'm afraid." He managed to stand. "Mite exhausted. Don't mind me." He took a breath. "My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe." He turned and pointed. "An army of rebel mages, right behind me. They are under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called the 'Elder One.'" He shifted to point at figures atop an outcropping of rock. "The woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori. For that..." He was pointing at a grotesque figure that towered over the others. It looked like one of the monstrous darkspawn. "The Elder One." Dorian turned back to them. "They were already marching on Haven. I risked my life to get here first."

Pretending to be a nobleman was on thing. Pretending to be a general in the face of an invading army was just stupid. Fortunately, the man with him didn't have to pretend. "Cullen. Give me a plan. Anything."

A moment later, Cullen nodded. "Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force." He gestured at the trebuchets. "Use everything you can." He turned and started directing the forces.

Matril forced down the panic clawing desperately for purchase, and headed out to the trebuchets. It took him several seconds to realize Blackwall, Cassandra, and Vivienne were with him. He stepped back, letting Blackwall and Cassandra take up protective positions, and then notched an arrow. They'd protect him.

#

He was nearly out of arrows by the time they'd cleared the first trebuchet. Before he could breath a sigh of relief, someone pointed out the other trebuchet wasn't firing. Matril let out a small curse when Cassandra immediately gestured for him to follow her in that direction. He scooped up another quiver from a dead Venatori, and followed. Which just proved he was stupid. He really should be running for his cache, and then on to Rivain.

Matril fired an arrow at a Venatori gathering a spell, then sought another target. Surely he could find some kind of glove or something that could hide the mark, or a means of removing it. There was enough in the cache to do that and still live a life of luxury. He sent another arrow into the throat of a mage aiming spells at Cassandra. Or he could go to Orlais, use the mark to leverage himself into the court. He rolled, then sent arrows at the forces pressing Vivienne, giving the mage more room to work her own spells. Fuck, with Tan dead he could even go back to the carta, make a living charging protection money for closing rifts. One last arrow, and the trebuchet was clear.

He began working the mechanism. As soon as it was ready, he fired, not even bothering to aim. The rock missed the invading army entirely, crashing into the mountain above them. He was about to yell for a reload when the mountain suddenly began to slide and... "Maker's Breath." Within the space of a few heartbeats, most of the force coming at them had been buried.

Halfway through a prayer of gratitude, he looked up...

#

"A hasty retreat would be in order." Matril heard Vivienne's voice as he picked himself up. A quick look revealed several corpses, Cassandra, Blackwall, Vivenne, and two more surviving soldiers. And an archdemon in the sky.

"Everyone to the gates." He gestured to them before obeying his own order. First an invasion, then a victory, and now an archdemon. He wasn't sure exactly what sign he should be taking from the past half hour. Hopefully that this was all a bad dream and he shouldn't have dinner with Sera ever again.

He threw his shoulder into a door to help Harriet, then kept moving. Cullen met them at the gate, and closed it behind them. "We need everyone back to the Chantry. It's the only building that might hold against..." Cullen headed for the stairs. "That beast." He looked back at Matril. "At this point..." He shook his head. "Just make them work for it."

Matril looked up at the sky and prayed silently. Maker, if there is a chance, any chance, please. I'll do whatever it takes.

#

They gathered what villagers they could. Lysette, Seggrit, Threen, and the injured Flissa. Vivienne's barrier kept shrapnel from the exploding pots from killing them as Matril and Cassandra pulled Minaeve and Adan to safety.

Roderick met them at the door, with the Tevinter mage... Dorian... helping him walk. Matril started to pass, then took a second look at the Chancellor. The man was wounded, and badly. Dying. And from the look in his eye, he knew it. Dorian helped him back into the Chantry. "A brave man. He stood against a Venatori."

"Briefly." Roderick's voice was pained. "I am no templar."

Cullen rushed over. "Herald. Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us." He shook his head. "There has been no communication, no demands. Only advance after advance."

"There was no bargaining with the mages, either." Dorian knelt next to Roderick. "This Elder One takes what it wants." He jerked his head towards Matril. "From what I gathered in Redcliffe, it marched all of this way to take your Herald."

The pieces snapped into place, and Matril nodded. "If it will save these people, he can have me."

"An assassin might take you up on that. But this force has not seemed concerned about specifics." Dorian stood. "And such a promising start with the landslide." He chuckled. "If only trebuchets remained an option."

"They are." Cullen's voice was quiet as he turned to Matril. "If we turn the last of them to the mountains above us."

"We're overrun.' Matril shook his head. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

"This is not survivable now." Cullen stood his ground. "The only choice left is how spitefully we end this."

"Well, that's not acceptable." Dorian walked over to them. "I didn't race here only to have you drop rocks on my head."

"Should we submit?" Cullen gestured. "Let him kill us?"

"Dying is typically a last resort, not a first." Dorian shook his head. "For a templar, you think like a blood mage."

Matril opened his mouth to speak, but Roderick's voice stopped him. "There is a path." They all turned towards him. "You wouldn't know it was there unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could..." He looked up at Matril. "Tell you."

And so, he had his miracle. The Maker had provided. Now, all that remained was the price. He turned to Cullen. "What about it, Cullen? Can you get them out?"

"Possibly. If he shows us the path." Cullen met his eyes. "But what of your escape?"

A small smile came to Matril's face, and he saw understanding flash Cullen's eyes. Next to him, Dorian gave him an admiring look. "Perhaps you can surprise the Elder One."

Cullen nodded, and turned to begin giving the orders. Matril helped Dorian get a shoulder under Roderick. "Herald..." Roderick gazed at him. "If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you."

He walked to the door of the Chantry. Blackwall, Vivienne, and Cassandra walked out with him. He smiled at them, and headed out to face destiny.

#

They fought mages and venatori. Cassandra stayed at his back, keeping anyone from closing as he fired arrows. Thirty feet away, Blackwall did the same for Vivienne as she twirled her staff, directing lethal shards of ice at the oncoming forces.

Across the field a woman began summoning magic of her own. He recognized the Grand Enchanter half a heartbeat after he loosed the arrow at her. It caught her in the shoulder, sending her staggering backwards. He took more careful aim the second time, and that arrow hit her just under the left eye. She fell.

For a moment, the field clear. He rushed to the mechanism, aiming the trebuchet. Cassandra stood nearby, her eyes scanning the field for signs of more enemies. "Got it." Matril started for the mechanism, and saw the dragon coming again. "Run." Cassandra hesitated. "Now." He gestured at her. "Now." There was no need for them to die with him. The Maker would not be so cruel.

The dragon's breath ignited barrels, and their explosion sent him flying. He rolled in a daze, and realized the dragon had landed not far from him. It roared as it advanced, between him and the trebuchet. He just needed...

"Enough." Someone was striding through the flames. And the dragon... stopped. "Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

Pretender? Maybe. And yet he could not deny that the Maker had answered his prayer. The people of Haven had a chance. He just had to find a way to take it. "No more. Why are you doing this? What purpose could this serve?"

The creature seemed twice as tall as he was as it took several more steps towards him. The dragon seemed to move in response to the creature's will. "Because you are my enemy. Because you stand in the way of destined power. Because I can." It raised its eyes to him. "Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus." It pointed one taloned finger at him. "You will kneel."

He'd knelt often enough in his life. Afraid, he'd gone to his knees to save his own life. How long had it been since a life other than his own had concerned him? He stood. "You must want something."

"I ask for nothing, because it is not in your power to give. But that will not stop me." The creature held up an orb, which glowed with swirling red energy. "I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now." Pain radiated from his hand, and then he did fall to his knees. "It is your fault, 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose." Light glowed around his hand, spreading the agony. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall."

"This was a boon from Andraste." He glared up at the creature, staggering back to his feet. "She saved my life.

"Then your Lady wished me to kill you, for Her 'boon' is a beacon I cannot let escape." The creature grabbed him by the wrist, lifting him up into the air. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more." Matril felt his shoulder strain as the creature raised him up until their faces were level. "I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was empty."

A heartbeat later, Matril was flying through the air as the creature flung him into the trebuchet. Ribs gave way as he hit, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. The creature glared. "The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling." There was a sword a few feet from him. He grabbed it, hoping that what few sword lessons he'd had in his life would at least allow him to die with some measure of dignity. He got to his feet. The creature began striding towards him. "So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - and god - it requires. And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."

An arrow, aflame, showed itself in the sky. She shall see fire and go towards light. He adjusted his grip on the sword, assuming a fighting stance. "As there is but one world, one life, one death, there is but one god, and He is our Maker." He turned, and kicked the trigger mechanism.

The stone flew, arching across the sky, and struck the mountain above Haven. And it began to slide. Then his feet were moving, and he was somewhat obligated to follow them.

#

He came back to consciousness in cold and darkness. His ribs burned, and it took his eyes some time to adjust to the dim light. He was in a cave, one sealed by the snow and ice of the avalanche. He'd... fallen?

Matril got to his feet. There was a tunnel. He took a deep breath, and started walking.

There were demons. Instinct guided him more than anything else, and the mark did something. The demons were pulled back into the rift. He looked back down at his hand. "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide." He'd said the psalm when joining the Inquisition, believing only that it was what they'd wanted to hear. For the first time, he knew the meaning behind the words. He squared his shoulders, and headed out of the cave.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke to the sound of voices arguing. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen stood near one of the other tents, their voices filled with anger and frustration. Matril started to sit up, and heard Mother Giselle's voice next to him. "Shhh, you need rest."

"I'm guessing they've been at it for hours." He looked across the expanse of trampled snow. Someone had clearly healed his wounds, and the numbing cold had been driven from his bones.

"They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame." She turned her gaze to their leaders. "Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus."

The old fear rose in him, as did the instinct to flee. "If that thing is still out there, we need to move."

"They are uncertain where. And there are other questions. About you." He felt a chill go through him at her words. "Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand..." She turned her eyes back to him. "And fall. And now, we have seen him return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained." She tilted her head as he sat up and looked at her. "That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we', perhaps, must come to believe?"

Something had taken hold of him there, in Haven. He'd asked for a miracle, and one had come. He'd expected to die, and surrendered himself to the Maker's will. Matril ran a hand through his hair. And yet all they'd managed was escape and mere survival. The last thing he'd seen before falling into the mineshaft was Corypheus riding away on the back of his dragon. Victory had eluded them. "I know in my heart I was meant for this, but that didn't help at Haven." He sighed, and rubbed his thumb into the palm of his hand. He'd been willing to give his life. What more was required? "I want to believe Andraste is with me, but doubt is everywhere." He rose, and stepped out into the cold, staring up at where the Breach had been. The despair in the camp felt almost like something he could reach out and touch.

And then, behind him, Mother Giselle began to sing. "Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come."

First Leliana, and slowly others, joined their voices to the song. Even Cullen added his. The sound seemed to drive back the cold and the darkness. One by one, the people of Haven added their voices. Some approached, kneeling as they looked to him.

When the song ended, it was as if he was looking at an entirely different camp. One that contained hope. He smiled when he heard Mother Giselle's voice again. "Faith is made stronger by facing doubt. Untested, it is nothing."

#

"A word?" Solas drew him away from the camp. The elven man used magic to light a small torch, then gazed out over the valley. "A wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it." Solas clasped his hands behind his back. "The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived..." He turned towards Matril. "Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn the orb's origin."

"They'll have to set aside blame while freezing is their first concern." He glanced back at the camp. Solas had been with them from the beginning, and Sera had certainly done her part. But Shartan had once fought at Andraste's side, and later been stricken from the Chant. The world did not have a history of being kind to the elves. "No, you are right to be concerned."

"We are agreed on that, and I may have a solution." Solas nodded.

#

They walked through the mountains. Solas gave him direction subtly, letting him be seen doing the leading. The man had rather incredible instincts for the game. And Matril was willing to play his part. At night he'd walk the camp, checking in on the people, offering words of encouragement or sympathy where needed. A small request to Solas netted him a potion that helped drive his own fatigue away, preventing anyone from seeing him flag from lack of sleep.

Solas matched pace with him as they came to a small pass. He stepped around a boulder and then...

The fortress lay before them, as if it had been placed by miracle into their path. He'd wager the construction was older than the kingdom of Ferelden at the very least. Matril glanced at Solas. Solas nodded. "Skyhold."

#

The armor he'd worn in Haven had been black, lined with fur. He left it sitting on the table, and chose instead white. It fit, somehow. If the Maker had need of him, then he would serve. Matril took a deep breath, and stepped outside into the daylight.

He saw Cassandra and the other leaders of the Inquisition speaking, and headed in their direction. They moved about their tasks, but Cassandra gestured for him to speak with her. She looked around the bustling fortress. "They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage." She started walking, and he fell into step beside her. "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One." She led him up the stairs, towards the upper level. "We hae the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated." She stopped, and turned to face him. "But we know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

Matril looked down at the marked hand. "This all began with Andraste's blessing. It was that simple."

She started walking again. "Yet did her blessing grant you worthiness, or was it given because you were already worthy? Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven." She led him up the next set of stairs. "You are that creature's rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us." Leliana waited on the landing, holding a sword across her hands. "The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it." The people were gathered below, staring up at him. For a moment, he thought he saw Margot among them, smiling. "You."

Part of him was telling him to take the mantle being offered, that it was the culmination of everything Margot had taught him, and yet... He took a deep breath, and turned back to look at Cassandra. "I have tried to serve faithfully, to understand the burden I was meant to carry."

Her smile was approving, though there was still some doubt in her eyes. "That is always a struggle."

"You're not sure about this?"

"There is no faith without doubt, yet I believe this is the only path before us." Cassandra nodded, and gestured at the sword Leliana held. "There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide."

Matril said a silent prayer before taking hold of the sword's hilt. "I will restore what Corypheus could never destroy. I am but a servant of the Light." He looked at the people that had followed him. "The Inquisition belongs to the faithful."

"Wherever you lead us." Cassandra took a step forward, and raised her voice. "Have our people been told?"

"They have," Josephine called back. "And soon, the world."

"Commander, will they follow?"

Cullen turned towards the people gathered. "Inquisition. Will you follow?" Cheers greeted his words. "Will you fight?" The cheering continued. "Will we triumph?" The voices grew louder. Cullen drew his blade, and pointed it at where Matril stood on the landing. "Your leader. Your Herald. Your Inquisitor."

As the shouting continued, Matril raised the blade Leliana had given him, and looked up at the sky. "Though we are few against the wind, we are yours."

#

Matril walked Skyhold, speaking to those that had become his companions. Sera was disturbed by events, but was staying anyway. Blackwall had become a genuine believer.

He found Cassandra, Solas, and Vivienne discussing Cole. Well, for some definition of discussing. He was getting the sneaking suspicion that Solas and Vivienne didn't like each other very much. Cole, it seemed, was not a mage after all. "I should..." He sighed. "Maybe hear what Cole has to say for himself." It was likely without Cole, he'd have been lost to the envy demon.

Cole was near the makeshift infirmary, looking at the wounded men. Some were dying, beyond the abilities of their healers. And Cole, it seemed, could feel their suffering. It was disturbing to watch on multiple levels. "Cole..." Matril took a deep breath. "What are you?"

"I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't now. I made mistakes..." Cole glanced at him. "But I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

"I..." Matril sighed. It wasn't as though he had the right to judge anyone for their mistakes. Or for what they used to be. "If you're willing, the Inquisition could use your help."

"Yes, helping. I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone..." He walked towards another of the soldiers. "Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please..." A knife appeared in Cole's hand. "The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help."

 _Let me keep my dignity_. Margot's voice, her face before his eyes. Death in his hand. "Help him."

#

He found the man who'd brought the warning reorganizing bookshelves in the library that was starting to take form. "Brilliant, isn't it?" Dorian tossed a book onto a nearby chair. "One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle, yes?" Dorian shrugged. "Then, out of nowhere, an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head. 'What? You thought this would be easy?' 'No, I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that. Archdemons like to crush, you know. Can't be helped.'" Dorian turned towards him. "I suppose a proper introduction is called for, now that we're not running for our lives." He gave a small bow. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of the Tevinter Imperium. I was at Redcliffe when the Venatori assumed command of your souther mages. I only wish I could have given more warning."

It took Matril a moment to realize he was staring. "What you did for us at Haven was very brave." Maker, if he kept this up the mage was probably going to set him on fire or something.

"It was, wasn't it?" Dorian gestured dramatically. "Throwing in my lot with the underdogs, that's me." He shrugged. "I always assumed the 'Elder One' behind the Venatori was a magister, but this..." He shook his head. "Is something else completely. In Tevinter, they say the Chantry's tales of magisters starting the Blight are just that: tales. But here we are. One of those very magisters. A darkspawn." Dorian looked somewhat dejected at the notion.

"And that makes you angry?" He raised an eyebrow.

"The Imperium is my home." Dorian gestured. "I knew what I was taught couldn't be the whole truth, but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere." He sighed. "But no. It was us all along. We destroyed the world."

"You didn't do anything." Matril shook his head. "Those men did. A thousand years ago."

"True, except that one of them is up and walking around right now." Dorian folded his arms. "No to mention I have idiot countrymen who would happily follow him down that path again." He straightened. "I have no intention of letting Corypheus win. Not without someone from Tevinter standing against him. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay and help the Inquisition."

"We can use all the help we can get." Matril smiled.

"No one will thank me, whatever happens." Dorian shrugged. "No one will thank you, either. You know that, yes?"

"That's not why I'm doing this." He just wished he was certain why he was doing this.

"I knew there was something clever about you." Dorian nodded. "All I know is this: Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't stand by and let him ruin the world." He started to walk away, then turned back to Matril. "Oh. And congratulations on that whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, by the way."

#

Matril took several deep breaths before working up the nerve to go up to the rookery. He found Cullen had beaten him there. Leliana clutched the scroll the commander gave her, then sighed when she saw Matril standing there. "The names of those we lost at Haven."

He bowed his head. "Far too many were lost."

She set the scroll on her desk, and put her hands on either side, leaning on the desk. It didn't take any great knowledge of the game to realize she blamed herself. "Leliana, you value your people. There is no disgrace in that. Our people matter."

"Can we afford such sentimentality? What if Corypheus -"

"Is he to be our example?" Matril raised an eyebrow. "Or should we walk a better path?"

Leliana looked down at the parchment, then turned her gaze to him. Her gray eyes seemed to pierce him. But she nodded before walking away.

For a long moment, he stood there. She knew. She had to know. He rubbed the back of his neck, and walked back out of the rookery.

#

Somehow, it seemed fitting that it be Mother Giselle who found him in Skyhold's Chantry. The small room held a statue of Andraste, old enough for the marble to have taken on a patina. A part of his mind was calculating the price it would fetch, and where he might find a buyer. He turned towards the woman. "Mother Giselle."

"Inquisitor." She smiled at him, then turned her gaze to the statue. "Andraste maternal. These fell out of favor several times over the centuries. Many were even destroyed, said to be heretical." She sat next to him. "What brings you down here?"

"Quiet, mostly. I needed..." Matril sighed. "Answers, I suppose. Though first I must decide on the question."

"May I ask a question then, Inquisitor?"

"If you would like."

"When was the last time you sought forgiveness?"

He blinked. Then he shook his head. "You've a rare gift for getting to the heart of the matter, Mother Giselle." He glanced over his shoulder, and realized she had closed the door behind her. "I have not confessed my sins for some years now."

"I will listen, if you wish to speak."

"I fear you may not like what I say, Mother."

"It is not my place to judge, Lord Trevelyan." She folded her hands in her lap. "Merely to listen, and to keep the conversation between us, Andraste, and the Maker."

"Perhaps then we should start with the most pertinent." He took a deep breath, and met the statue's eyes. "My name isn't Matril Trevelyan."


	6. Chapter 6

He stood in the rotunda a moment, watching Solas examine the walls. "Solas." The man actually jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It is alright, Inquisitor. I simply was not expecting to see you here." Solas nodded to him.

"I'm interested in what you told me of your studies." And he still didn't have a good read on the man. "If you have time, I would like to hear more."

"You continue to surprise me." Solas nodded. "Very well."

#

He sat bolt upright in the bed, staring at the other side of the room. It had been a dream or... Solas had taken him through the events of Haven and... He'd never quite had a dream like that before and given Solas's particular specialties... He rose and walked to the desk. His hands shook just slightly as he poured from bottle to cup. Had he entered Solas's dream, or had Solas entered his? Odd how the former scenario actually felt less frightening. Matril downed the contents of the cup, then added a log to the dying fire.

Matril slumped into a chair, watching the flames. He'd hadn't told Mother Giselle much beyond that he was a criminal under an assumed name. Telling her that much had been stupid enough, but either she was the real thing, or she had a vested interest in seeing him maintain his position. And at some point, the actual Trevelyans would start comparing notes and there would be questions in need of answers. Considering how many 'cousins' there were within the templar order, it was a wonder he hadn't been confronted already.

The mark on his hand sparked, and he looked down at it, turning his hand this way and that. "Why me?" He stood, and walked out to the balcony, looking up at the sky. "Of all the choices, all the people at the conclave, why me? There were..." He sighed. "Thousands were there. Good men and women. Faithful. Honorable. Deserving." He leaned on the railing. "I..." He swallowed. "You of all should know how many oaths I've broken, how many lies I've lived. My sins." He hung his head, and then he took a deep breath. "You told Drakon he had to pass through fire to be forged anew. I passed through the fire, through the ice, to bring your faithful here. If this is the path you have chosen for me, Merciful Lady, I will do my best."

#

"He asked me to tell you he was sorry."

Matril looked up at Dorian. He hadn't realized it had been the Tevinter man who had carried Roderick through the mountains. "Roderick was a good man, after all."

"Sometimes you discover things where you least expect." Dorian shrugged. "Anyway, we can talk about something else, if you'd rather."

"What brings a magister south?" Matril shifted to face Dorian. Dorian chuckled before explaining that he was an altus rather than a magister. Matril raised an eyebrow. "A barbarian, am I?"

"I said you sounded like a barbarian, not that you were one." Dorian folded his arms.

"No, no. Too late. The damage is done." He put a hand over his heart. "You've wounded my feelings and my pride." Matril sighed. "It will take at least an entire bottle of wine to undo this harm."

Dorian scoffed. "I've seen your wine cellar. Anything in there would just make it worse."

"Some nobleman sent several bottles of Talivari Red." Matril wrinkled his nose.

"Egad." Dorian's eyes widened. "I trust you are declaring an Exalted March?"

"Worse." Matril smiled. "I mentioned the matter to Vivienne."

"Now that's just cruel." Dorian leaned against the bookshelf. He gave Matril an appraising look. "Did you know we're actually related, Inquisitor?"

"Related?"

"Oh, not first cousins or anything like that." Dorian shrugged. "Can you imagine? You're a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."

Perhaps it was slightly for the best he wasn't actually a Trevelyan. "I'd rather we weren't related. That might make flirting awkward." He heard the words before he realized he'd even said them. Maker, he had to be more careful.

"Depends on which branch of the family you come from." Dorian tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Regardless, I think we're still good to go - by at least three ages." He smiled at Matril before returning to his self-appointed role as library curator.

Well now... Matril swallowed before turning and heading downstairs. That was going to require a bit of consideration.

#

"Forgive me..." Matril gave the man in front of him a small bow. "It's not often I actually get to meet a character from one of my favorite books." He glanced at Varric. "I must confess, a part of me did wonder if you were a figment of Varric's imagination."

"You should hear the things he says about you." Hawke chuckled, then did an excellent imitation of Varric's voice. "'Has a good shot at fixing Blondie's mess' was the claim."

"No pressure or anything." Matril sighed. "Varric tells me you know something of Corypheus?"

#

The trip to meet Hawke's Warden contact was mildly uneventful. Blackwall and Sera both annoyed Vivienne simply by existing. Solas expressed several unflattering opinions of Qunari to Iron Bull. Varric entertained himself by irritating Cassandra. Listening to Dorian attempts to understand the peculiarities of Cole's nature was at least interesting. And worrisome. Matril wasn't entirely sure what would happen if Cole started playing around in his head, and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to send the kid away.

Harding was waiting for them on the coast. "We've got trouble ahead."

"I'm starting to notice a theme here." Matril sighed.

"What do you expect?" Varric shrugged. "We're here to meet Hawke."

#

"Undead. Rising up out of a lake. Attacking a village. While Wardens skulk around." Matril put his bow back into the sling. "Solas, Vivienne, will you see what you can do for the wounded while I track down the mayor?"

"Of course, my dear." Vivienne inclined her head graciously.

#

Matril frowned as they left the mayor's home. He glanced at his companions. "If someone offered to do all the fighting for me, I imagine I would be a bit grateful." He glanced back at the mayor's door. "Or at least willing to point them in the right direction."

"Yeah." Iron Bull nodded. "That guy was off."

They started to head back to the gate when Matril noticed the elven woman the Wardens had rescued earlier. She was gushing over how heroic they were, and how much she wanted to join them. He glanced at Blackwall, who was looking a bit shy, then nodded to the woman. "Heroes are needed." He took a very nice bow they'd found on one of the bandits, and offered it to her. "I wish you well, though if you want a shorter trip, the Inquisition has a camp right up the road."

Her eyes widened. "Thank you, Inquisitor."

#

"Iron Bull." Matril turned to the larger man, and gestured at the gate of the fortress. "Would you mind knocking?"

"Heh." He hefted his axe, and charged.

Matril notched an arrow and followed with the rest of his companions.

#

"This fortress is on the crossroads of several trade routes." Matril looked around from his vantage point on the highest tower. "If we did some repairs, it would make a good waystation." He nodded to himself. "For goods and information." He glanced at Harding. "Send word to Leliana."

#

"Oh, look-a dragon. What a perfect way to ruin our day." As if walking through the mud and the cold wasn't quite enough. Dorian shook his head as he followed the Inquisitor into the hills. Following the Inquisitor, at least, was not a hardship.

"Corypheus. One of yours, isn't he?" The presence of others, on the other hand...

Dorian turned and raised an eyebrow at Blackwall. "One of mine? Like a pet? Like a giant darkspawn hamster with aspirations of godhood?" He spread his hands, gesturing as he spoke. "'Dorian, why can't you look after your little friends? Corypheus peed on the carpet again!' In this analogy, the carpet is Haven." He heard someone snicker.

Blackwall glared. "Is he or is he not a Tevinter Magister?"

He tapped his chin. "Meaning 'the source of everything bad and evil in the world'? They are the same, yes?"

"Certainly feels that way at times." Blackwall shook his head.

"Come now, Blackwall." The Inquisitor glanced over his shoulder. "Tevinter isn't responsible for either Antivan fashion or Anderfels wine."

"I wouldn't characterize Anderfels wine as evil, exactly." Dorian waved a hand.

"Really?" The Inquisitor frowned thoughtfully. "Ever tried pairing it with ham?" He shrugged. "It tastes of despair."

#

He lifted his hand and focused, sealing the rift. It closed, and he sighed with relief, taking a series of deep breaths. "Everyone alright?"

"We helped them." Cole said. "Their lives are better because of us."

Matril smiled, then offered Sera a hand back to her feet. "And the people in this room, are they all okay?"

Cole blinked. "Blackwall got clawed on his -"

"We're fine." Blackwall cut the spirit off. "Everyone's fine."

#

Matril crumpled the note in his hand, then tossed it back on the desk. "We'll have Leliana track down the mayor. We should find Hawke and his friend."

#

Matril watched the old Warden walk out of the cave, followed by Hawke. He slowly shook his head. "Loghain Mac Tir." He turned towards Cassandra. "As Inquisitor, I order you to break the news to Sister Leliana." He glanced back at the cave entrance. "I'll be cowering out of range somewhere."

#

He walked upstairs, and stopped when he saw Dorian looking over a piece of parchment. Dorian was frowning. Matril stepped into the alcove and raised an eyebrow. Dorian sighed. "A letter regarding a friend. You never met him, but he was at Redcliffe when..." Dorian shook his head. "Everything happened. I was trying to discover what became of him. Where he ended up."

"And?" Matril leaned on one of the bookcases.

"Nothing. Redcliffe is abandoned, and there's no trace of him. It's as if he never existed." Dorian set the parchment on one of the tables, then leaned on the table. "I think the Venatori found out he was helping me. I think they killed him."

"Those bastards will pay for that." Too many good people had already been lost.

"Yes." Dorian's fists clenched. "They will." He took a deep breath. "Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say. Tevinter could use more mages like him, those who put the good of others above themselves."

"What was he doing in Redcliffe if he wasn't part of the Venatori?" Matril folded his arms.

"He was there with his father. In fact, Felix was the reason I knew where the Venatori were." Dorian sighed. "He'd planned to help if you came to Redcliffe, I understand. He had so much more than I to lose by helping. He should be alive, not I."

Matril hung his head. "Had I known..." He sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't save your friend." He raised his head to meet Dorian's eyes. "He should be an example for others to follow, or his death is wasted."

A small smile came to Dorian's face. "Should I spread the word? We could spawn the Cult of Felix within a matter of days."

"There are worse things." Matril smiled.

"Possibly true..." Dorian shrugged. "And you're right. His actions should not be forgotten." Dorian started to walk away, then turned back towards Matril. "Thankfully, Felix wasn't the only decent sort kicking around Thedas."

#

"As leader of the Inquisition..." Cullen sighed, and looked down at his desk. "There's something I must tell you."

"Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen." Matril nodded to him. The commander was slightly paler than normal, and looked as though he hadn't slept recently.

"Right." Cullen straightened, and rested his hands on his sword hilt. "Thank you." He took a deep breath. "Lyrium grants templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer - some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the templars here. But I..." Cullen hesitated a moment. "No longer take it."

"You stopped?" He raised an eyebrow.

"When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now."

Matril folded his arms and bowed his head. Then he gave shook his head slightly. "If this can kill you..."

"It hasn't yet." Cullen leaned on his desk. "After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't..." He sighed. "I will not be bound to the Order - or that life - any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it." He stood up straight again. "But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to..." He shrugged. "Watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved of duty."

"'And those I have called, they remember, and they shall endure'." Matril slowly nodded. "If this is the course that has been set for you, then I wish you strength. And if there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Cullen nodded to him. "The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen..." He took a deep breath. "I will defer to Cassandra's judgment."

#

He sipped tea as he made polite conversation with Madam Vivienne regarding life in the circle and what was going to become of the Templar order. "They executed Denam." Matril glanced down over the balcony. "I am told Ser Barris handled the matter personally."

"A fitting end." Vivienne lifted her cup to her lips. "He seems a dutiful young man."

"I quite agree. The templars are setting high standards for Cullen's new recruits." He raised an eyebrow. "I trust there have been no incidents with our mages?"

"They appear to have settled in nicely. I do appreciate the books you recovered." She smiled. "The thought of them in the hands of brigands was most distressing."

"I thought perhaps..." He glanced at the doors to see one of the runners approaching. "Forgive me, Madam, we must continue this another time."

"Of course, my dear."

#

The identity of Hawke's informant had done an excellent job of keeping Leliana distracted. She was currently occupied with trying to run down the old man's backtrail. It was no longer clear as to what, exactly, would occur should his lie be exposed to daylight. From what Josephine had said, none of the Trevelyans had bothered to concern themselves over which branch of the family he hailed. They were all entirely too thrilled that the Inquisitor bore the Trevelyan name. Apparently, no few of them had tried to use his rank to increase their own standing.

It occurred to him he could easily simply claim to be an illegitimate member. There were enough Trevelyans in the templars to make such a claim reasonable, and with the order still in disarray with members missing, there would be none to gainsay him. And it wasn't like there weren't any Trevelyan bastards out there. And even Lukas didn't know his real name, or even any of his active aliases.

Matril smiled. Perhaps things would work out after all.

#

"That..." Matril looked around. "Is a distressingly large amount of nothing."

"Oh, it's not nothing." Harding smiled up at him cheerfully. "There are poisoned hot springs, varghests, darkspawn, sandstorms, venatori, dragons..."

"Yes. Thank you." Matril rubbed his forehead. "You've made your point."

She shrugged. "Welcome to the Western Approach."

#

Dorian sighed, and emptied the sand out of his boot. He tapped it against a rock a few times to make sure he got all of it before putting the boot back on. A shadow fell nearby, and he looked up to see the Inquisitor. The blond man seated himself on a nearby rock. "It occurs to me that I barely know anything about you."

"Beyond my being a mage from Tevinter, you mean?" Dorian lowered his voice dramatically.

"Beyond that, yes." The Inquisitor smiled.

"And beyond my being so charming and well-dressed?" Dorian shrugged. "Which is obvious to anyone."

"I'm well aware of your finer qualities, believe me."

Well now, that was... Perhaps he hadn't imagined it earlier. "Of course I believe you. The moment I saw you, I thought, 'There's a man who knows quality.'" It wasn't a lie. The man had clearly made both his clothing and armor choices carefully. The effect was rather faltering. "Now..." He leaned back. "What was I talking about? Ah, yes. Me." He spread his hands. "I am the scion of House Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of all its hopes and dreams. Naturally, I despised it all: the lies, the scheming, the illusions of supremacy. That's Tevinter in a nutshell, isn't it? Needless to say, my family was not happy with my choices."

The Inquisitor arched an eyebrow at him. "Why would your family be upset with your choices?"

"Because I rejected their idyllic plan. If they had their way, by now I'd be married to some unlucky girl from a powerful family. We'd live in luxurious despair, despising each other as I waited to take my father's place in the Magisterium. I declined the honor, and thus it's best I'm far from home. Less of an embarrassment that way, you see."

"I wonder what it says that we'd rather be wandering a endless desert than sipping wine in the family pavilion?" The Inquisitor chuckled. He glanced over at their other companions. Varric and Cassandra were arguing again, while Solas was giving his rather unflattering opinion on the Qun to Iron Bull. Sera and Blackwall were having a belching contest while Cole looked on in confusion, and Vivienne appeared to be doing her best to ignore all of them.

"Nothing flattering, I'm certain." Dorian shrugged.

#

He watched Loghain and Hawke disappearing into the distance, then looked down at the corpses. Matril shook his head. "It doesn't seem right to just leave them here like this."

"What do you suggest?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him.

"Pile them, and see if there is anyone around willing to summon up some fire?" Matril glanced over his shoulder at where the mages stood.

The work didn't take them long. The piling of the bodies was fairly unceremonious. The three mages ignited the makeshift pyre, focusing their will to keep the flames high.

"I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade, or there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." Matril shook his head as he watched the fire. A waste of life.


	7. Chapter 7

Matril looked down at the map. "Loghain and Hawke headed in this direction. They'll report back as soon as they have anything." He looked up at his advisers. "We scouted a few camps. Harding has the report and is getting them supplied."

"Some of our scouts recently went missing in this area." Cullen indicated the map. "I've soldiers out searching now."

"Here is hoping it won't be a repeat of the situation with the Blades of Hessarian." Matril sighed, then raised an eyebrow. "Have there been any further difficulties?"

"On the contrary, they are working out quite well." Cullen nodded. "They've already dealt with some Venatori along the coast for us, and sent back some useful supplies."

"Good to hear." He glanced at his other advisers. Leliana was frowning at some of her papers. "Let me know if there is anything else."

"Of course." Josephine smiled at him.

#

"Mother Giselle." He bowed to her.

"My lord Inquisitor, it's good of you to speak with me." She sighed. I have news regarding one of your..." She hesitated a moment. "Companions. The Tevinter."

"Is that a note of distaste I detect, Mother Giselle?" Matril raised an eyebrow at her.

"I..." She took a deep breath. "Admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor, but my feelings are of no importance. I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?"

"He's mentioned his family." Matril nodded. "They don't appear to be on good terms."

"Yes. I believe you're correct." Mother Giselle held up a folded piece of parchment. "The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he'll come." The hairs on the back of his neck rose slightly, but he didn't otherwise react. "Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I'd hoped..."

"May I see the letter?" He raised an eyebrow and she handed it over. "I'm not overly inclined to trick someone into meeting with their family..."

She sighed. "I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there." She looked up at him. "I pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you. If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act."

He unfolded the letter as he headed into the rotunda, stopping in the doorway to read it. Then he frowned, and headed up the stairs.

#

Dorian leaned on one of the columns as he glared at the bookshelf. Despite his best efforts, the Inquisition's small library still a mess. Of course, it didn't help that whenever a new crate of books was delivered the contents were merely shoved haphazardly wherever the servants could find room. He sighed, then saw the Inquisitor coming up the stairs. The day was starting to look up. "I could watch you roam Skyhold all day." He waved a hand. "Here and there you run, checking in on your followers. Why don't they come to you, feed you grapes, rub your shoulders?" He shrugged. "I suppose it's more fun this way. For me, I mean. You're rather strapping."

A small smile came to the Inquisitor's face. "I've noticed you're rather strapping, yourself."

"Of course you have." Dorian returned the smile. "That only takes eyes."

"Luckily, I have those."

"You do. A rather fetching pair." They were a deep emerald green, like trees in the flush of summertime. Ah, and now he was waxing poetic. "At any rate, you didn't pass by to hear me fawn. Something on your mind?"

"Dorian..." The Inquisitor held up a piece of parchment. "There's a letter you need to see."

"A letter?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?"

"Not quite." The Inquisitor offered him the parchment. "It's from your father."

He stared at it as though it were a poisonous serpent. "From my father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?"

"A meeting."

Dorian snatched the letter out of the other man's hand and opened it.

#

Matril watched Dorian read the letter. The earlier cheer was gone from his face as he glared at the parchment. He shook it angrily as he looked back up at Matril. "I know my son? What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble." He made a frustrated sound. This is so typical." He smacked the parchment with his other hand. "I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me to Tevinter."

"That would be hard to do while I stood there." Matril shook his head. Dorian had come to help them. He was not about to let anyone drag him off.

"He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, although Maker knows why he'd think I would." Dorian gave a decisive nod. "Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone." He waved a hand. "You're good at that. If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end.'"

"There appears to be some bad blood between you and your family." Family squabbles could be brutal. He shoved the memories away.

Dorian laughed. "Interesting turn of phrase." He shrugged. "But you're correct. They don't care for my choices, nor I for theirs."

"Because you wouldn't get married?" Matril frowned. It would be helpful to know just how much trouble they were about to step in. "Because you left?"

"That too." Dorian's voice was bitter.

"Let's go meet this retainer, then." Matril nodded.

"I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed?" Dorian frowned. Then he sighed. "We'll find out soon enough."

#

They went south first, into what turned out to be a swamp. Harding shrugged when she informed him that it was a good thing they were used to fighting undead. The woman was a rather cheerful little sadist. Matril sighed. "I am not going to let anyone keep Inquisition soldiers."

"We appreciate that." She smiled up at him before filling him in on what they knew of the Avvar.

#

"What do they call this? A 'bog?'" Dorian shook his head. "Lovely word."

"I would have gone with quagmire." The Inquisitor yanked his leg out of a section of mud before adjusting his boot. "Mire. Slough. Perhaps even sump."

"Muck, morass, muskeg, murky and morose."

"Yes, Cole." The Inquisitor nodded to him. "That sums it up perfectly."

"The mud wants my feet to stay." Cole frowned at the ground.

With a sigh, the Inquisitor reached back to offer Cole a hand up to drying ground. "Try not stepping in the water."

"Let me guess..." Dorian looked over the view. "The locals claim this place is haunted?"

"Look. Signs of a plague." The Inquisitor frowned as he followed Cassandra across the footbridge.

"A cheerful addition to any decent swamp." Dorian sighed. "At least in the city, you can find a decent healer. Out here you have, what? Roots and berries?"

"And walking dead." The Inquisitor unslung his bow and notched an arrow. "Don't forget the walking dead."

"Naturally." Dorian aimed a fireball.

#

"And look..." Matril pointed. "A foreboding wreck of a fortress, teeming with the undead and other forms of villainy. This day just continues to get better."

"If we try to fight them all, we will be overwhelmed." Cassandra shook her head.

"Barriers, and then run right through?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"That seems to be the only way." Cassandra nodded.

"Right." He notched an arrow anyway. "After you."

#

Matril smiled at the freed soldiers, then suddenly grimaced and shook his head. Dorian raised an eyebrow at him. "Something troubling you?"

"I just realized..." He turned to look at the gate. "We have to walk back."

"Oh." Dorian sighed.

#

"Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well." Dorian took a couple steps backward.

Someone stepped out of the shadows. "Dorian."

"Father." Dorian turned to face the man. Matril didn't draw his bow, but he didn't quite take his hand off it either. Dorian shook his head, and anger filled his voice. So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just..." Dorian glared. "What? A smoke screen?"

"Then you were told." The man walked all the way into the room. His clothing was well made, though not ostentatious. A man of enough wealth that he had no need to show it off. "I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved."

"Of course not." Dorian glanced over his shoulder at Matril before turning back to his father. "Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?" Dorian took a few steps toward his father. "What is 'this' exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?"

The Magister sighed, and looked at Matril. "This is how it has always been."

If the man wanted sympathy, he was truly looking in the wrong direction. Matril stepped to Dorian's shoulder and narrowed his eyes. "Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be furious."

Dorian turned to look at him. "You don't know the half of it." He shook his head. "But maybe you should."

"Dorian, there's no need to -" Magister Pavus held up a hand.

"I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves."

Matril blinked. That... "I'll need you to explain that."

"Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it."

That really wasn't the part he'd needed explained. It was just given certain incidents in his own past... "That's..." He glanced back at the magister before looking back to Dorian. "A big concern in Tevinter, then?"

"Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard." Dorian waved a hand. "Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw - every aberration - is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden."

That was the explanation he was looking for. He shrugged. "I've more than heard of it, actually."

"No. The Herald of Andraste?" Dorian rolled his eyes. "I am shocked and scandalized."

Despite himself, Matril smiled. "Such sarcasm."

"You're not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor." The corners of Dorian's mouth twitched just slightly.

"I should have known that's what this was about." They both turned at the sound of the magister's voice. He was glaring at both of them now.

"No." Dorian actually stepped between his father and Matril. "You don't get to make those assumptions. You know nothing about the Inquisitor."

"This is not what I wanted." Magister Pavus shook his head.

"I'm never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?" Dorian folded his arms.

"So that's what all of this is about?" Matril sighed. "Who you sleep with?"

"That's not all it's about." Dorian's voice was low and furious.

"Dorian, please, if you'll only listen to me." Magister Pavus took a step forward.

"Why?" Dorian took a step forward himself as he gestured angrily. "So you can spout more convenient lies?" He glanced back at Matril before pointing at his father. "He taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind'. Those are his words." Dorian all but spat the words. He turned and walked a few paces away before turning back toward his father "But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?" Pain entered his voice, and he nearly choked on his next words. "You tried to change me."

"I only wanted what was best for you."

"You wanted the best for you. For your fucking legacy. Anything for that."

It took an act of will not to reach for his bow as the meaning of Dorian's words sank in. He saw Dorian start to walk toward the door. Anger and sorrow both tried to claw their way to the surface, and he pushed them back down brutally. This was about Dorian, not... other things. And Dorian's father wasn't his. He'd come with words. "Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself."

For a moment, Dorian just stared at him. Then he turned back toward his father. "Tell me why you came."

"If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition..." Magister Pavus's took a half step toward his son.

"You didn't." Dorian just shook his head. "I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do." He took a step backward. "Once I had a father who would have known that." He turned away.

Matril met his eyes, and then nodded as he stepped back to let Dorian walk toward the door. He fell into step behind the other man.

"Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed." Magister Pavus's voice caused Dorian to pause. "I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."

Dorian stood there for a heartbeat before turning to look at Matril. Matril touched his shoulder, and nodded before stepping back to let Dorian walk toward his father.

#

If the night hadn't been so quiet, he wouldn't have heard the light brush of footsteps coming up behind him. "Words bitter and biting, breaking. Bastard." Cole's pale eyes stared at him from under the hat. "The word hurts you, but you want it. Why?"

Matril wrapped his arms around himself, then looked down at the ground for some time before looking back at Cole. "So you know?"

"Yes." Cole frowned. "No. Maybe."

"Well, thank you for clarifying that." Matril shook his head.

"Oh." Cole smiled. "You're welcome."

"I don't suppose you could tell me?" He met Cole's eyes. "Am I a bastard?"

"It's a word with many meanings."

"I suppose you are correct." Matril sighed, and brushed his hair back. He gave Cole an appraising look. "Wouldn't you rather have clothes that fit you properly?"

Cole looked down at himself. "The pants go on over the boots."

"You're supposed to put the pants on before the boots. I..." Matril patted Cole on the shoulder. "When we get back to Skyhold, I'll help you."

#

He caught a glimpse of the Inquisitor approaching out of the corner of his eyes. The man walked to the alcove, and then stopped a couple feet away. Dorian knew without asking that if he wanted to be left alone, the man would walk away. "He says we're alike. Too much pride." He was almost surprised to hear his own voice. "Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him."

"Are you all right?"

As odd as it seemed, he was sure the question was genuine. He decided to answer it honestly. "No. Not really." He hesitated, and then turned to face the other man. "Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn't what I expected, but..." His father had come. And somehow, he'd acquired a friend who'd be willing to stand beside him. "It's something." He took a deep breath. "Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display."

"I don't think less of you." The Inquisitor smiled. "More, if possible."

"The things you say."

"I mean it."

The man's hair was falling into his face again. Dorian fought the urge to reach up and fix it. "My father never understood. Living a lie..." He shook his head. "It festers inside of you, like poison. You have to fight for what's in your heart."

To his surprise, the Inquisitor looked away. "I'm glad things got..." He shrugged. "Closer to settled, anyway."

Dorian slowly nodded. "At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day." He shrugged. "Join me sometime, if you've a mind."

"Perhaps." The Inquisitor nodded. "I should..." He shook his head. "Cullen is undoubtedly eager to hear the thrilling report of how many different types of mud we've waited through recently."

#

"Inquisitor." Mother Giselle sat down next to him.

"Mother Giselle." He didn't turn to look at her.

"Confessing one's sins does little good if one merely repeats them."

"What good comes from the truth, Mother?" Matril shook his head. "They come from all over, because they believe. What would they think, if they knew what their Inquisitor truly was?"

"You think none among them has ever told a lie? I doubt you are the only one here that has taken a different name." She smiled. "If you must know, my name is actually Alphonsine Giselle."

"That's..." Matril chuckled. "Well, I certainly cannot fault the reason for your choice."

"Yet you fault your own?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I was on the run. Taking my name with me would have been a death sentence." He shook his head.

She slowly nodded. "What is it you fled?"

Matril looked up at the statue of Andraste. In his memory, he saw the fire rising, and heard the screams echoing through his mind. "Foolishness. Cowardice. Self-delusion." He sighed. "Myself."

"Perhaps you judge yourself too harshly, Inquisitor." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I saw you offer your life to save the people of Haven. You stood before a monster, and you did not falter. That is not the action of a coward."

"I note you said nothing regarding it being the action of a fool." He shook his head.

A small smile came to her face. "There are no doubt many who called Andraste a fool when she began her journey." She patted his shoulder.

"Those who bear false witness nd work to deceive others, know this: There is but one Truth. All things are known to our Maker and He shall judge their lies." Matril leaned forward to look down at the ground. "I told you I came to the conclave with the intent of stealing some of the treasures brought as gifts for the Divine."

"Yes." She nodded. "You also gave me the items you had stolen, to be returned to the Chantry. Relics that would otherwise have been lost. 'The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, shall know true peace.'"

"My first crime was theft. I stole food from a vendor."

"I do not think any would judge you too harshly for that, Inquisitor."

"I was penniless, ended up in a tavern trying to work up the nerve to pick a pocket. And a man offered to buy me a drink." He took a deep breath. "Then he offered me a bed. His."

"I see." Mother Giselle nodded to him.

"I wasn't yet fourteen. Still innocent. I actually thought he cared about me. Then a month later, he was a bit shy during a card game and he..." Matril looked down at his hands. "He bet me. And lost. Before I even realized what was actually happening, this Rivaini businessman was trading me to his business partner for some..." He laughed. "You know, I never did learn what was in that box, but it was apparently worth more than I was because he had to throw in some statue as well. A couple months later, I was sold to a brothel. A few months after that, a client decided it was more cost effective and discreet to simply retain my 'services' for his personal use. He took me back with him to Orlais." He looked towards Mother Giselle. "The Herald of Andraste was a slave and a whore."

"Andraste was also a slave, once. And who knows what she may have been made to do in her time in slavery." Mother Giselle smiled gently. "Your past may have been why you were chosen to undertake this task."

"From there I..." He shook his head. "I was taught to be a bard. A spy. A thief. And, if the pay was right..." He met her eyes. "An assassin. I came to the conclave in the employ of the Carta."

"I see." She frowned.

"And at first, I stayed because people like Cassandra and Cullen were..." He sighed. "They were prepared to defend me. Then, when I learned my former employer was dead, I thought I could use them. This was Game beyond what I had ever dreamed. And then..." He rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know when it changed but..." He shook his head. "It did. A few years or even a few weeks ago, if you'd have told me I'd walk out to face a dragon to..." He looked down at his hands. "But I did. And despite everything that should have..." He raised his eyes to the statue. "I survived it. And Skyhold was here, waiting. Like everything before was just to bring us here and now I'm terrified that..." He took a deep breath. "I told the templars that I was the voice of Andraste. Mother Giselle..." He couldn't meet her eyes. "What if I was telling the truth?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Perhaps without the hat..." Matril frowned.

"But I like my hat." Cole stared back at him, eyes huge.

Matril sighed. "Perhaps a different hat? One less..." He shook his head. "Come with me."

Cole followed him down into the undercroft. Matril looked around for a moment. "Dagna?"

The dwarven woman slid out from under where she'd been fiddling with a contraption. "Inquisitor?"

"I have a task for you that borders not just upon the impossible, but may in fact require you to alter the very nature of reality."

"Ooooh..." Dagna's eyes lit up. "What did you have in mind?"

"Cole needs a hat that does not offend everyone with eyes." Matril patted Cole's shoulder. "And armor that fits him properly. Perhaps trimmed with that leftover blue brocade that was used in the dining hall? It would reduce his pallor." He gave Cole another appraising look. "Use that stormheart we found. The brocade will complement it nicely."

"Can do." Dagna nodded. She grinned up at Cole, then held up a tool. "I need to measure you."

#

"Don't play the fool with me, young man."

"If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you."

"Your glib tongue does you no credit."

"You'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, Your Reverence."

Matril sighed as he stood on the staircase. That was starting to sound like something he needed to go break up. He headed up and saw Dorian and Mother Giselle staring each other down. Mother Giselle saw him, and her eyes widened a little. "Oh, I..."

"What's going on here?" He raised an eyebrow.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "It seems the revered mother is concerned about my 'undue influence' over you."

He blinked, and glanced at Mother Giselle. She met his eyes. "It is just concern. Your Worship, you must know how this looks."

"You might need to spell it out, my dear." Dorian folded his arms.

"This man is of Tevinter." Mother Giselle gestured at Dorian. "His presence at your side, the rumors alone..."

Undoubtedly she thought she was protecting him, especially given what he'd already told her. He just wished she understood how unnecessary it was. "What's wrong with him being from Tevinter specifically?"

"I'm fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same." Mother Giselle squared her shoulders.

"How kind of you to notice. Yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses?" Dorian shrugged.

"The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?"

"The truth?"

"The truth is I do not know you, and neither do they. Thus, these rumors will continue."

"That is the way of rumor, is it not?" Matril shrugged. "The right words spoken into the right ear can change history, and they need not be true or even believable. And yet with the smallest nudge, they can go off in another direction entirely. Leliana, Josephine, and Varric play with them as children play at marbles." He inclined his head toward Mother Giselle. "It is the Game, Mother Giselle. If I were to ask from where these rumors originated?"

"I..." She looked at him again, and then nodded. "See. I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man's intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both." She curtsied, to both him and Dorian, before making her way down the stairs. All people had ulterior motives. The trick simply lay in balancing such things.

"Well, that's something." Dorian sounded surprised.

"She didn't get to you, did she?" Matril turned to face him.

"No, it takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations." Dorian frowned.

He'd have to talk to Giselle in private. That was not going to be a fun conversation. "You don't think she'll do anything?"

"Do what?" Dorian shook his head. "Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers." Slowly, Dorian turned to face him. "I don't know if you're aware, but the assumption in some corners is that you and I are..." He hesitated a moment. "Intimate."

Matril smiled. "That's not the worst assumption they could have, is it?" He could think of several dozen others off the top of his head.

"I don't know." Dorian gave him a curious look. "Is it?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Matril folded his arms.

"Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"If you're capable." Matril chuckled. He started to say something else, and then Dorian was kissing him. Coherent thought fled his mind as he found himself kissing the man back.

"'If you're capable.'" Dorian pulled back just slightly. "The nonsense you speak."

It took him a moment to find all his wits. "You realize this makes the rumors somewhat true?"

"Evidently." Dorian's smile held more than a small amount of evil. "We might have to explore the full truth of them later. In private."

#

"I remember our talk out there, before we found Skyhold." He looked up at Mother Giselle entered the small prayer alcove. "It wasn't just the Maker who put me on this path, was it?"

"The Inquisitor could never have been Cassandra or Leliana..." She sat next to him. "Or me, for that matter. We are too political, too tied to the Chantry and all its failings. But I did not make you stand against Corypheus. I did not make you risk death to save the people of Haven. Only you could be the Inquisitor. I only pray the power of the Inquisition is enough."

"As do I." Matril leaned back to look at the statue of Andraste. "A long time ago, I considered coming to the Chantry. One day taking the vows of a brother."

"What stopped you?" She raised an eyebrow.

"The same thing that stops many a would be initiate, I suppose." Matril grinned. "I discovered kissing."

Mother Giselle laughed. "You should get some sleep, Inquisitor. The upcoming days will be busy."

#

"Anything we can do to confound the Venatori's advances is worth the effort." Matril nodded to Leliana. If she knew about him or not, her opportunity to act upon that information had passed. Her fate was now tied to his. "Calpernia must be up to something. Corypheus does not seem the type to suffer idleness."

"I will not let her and Corypheus take us unawares again." Leliana nodded. "These Venatori have been shadowing a merchant called Vicinius, on Calpernia's orders. They've investigated his finances, surveyed his warehouses. I propose you meet with Vicinius. Flatter him. Find out what he knows of Calpernia."

Small world. He knew the name. "We need him to open up about these bloodthirsty cultists. I'll bring wine."

"Vicinius could be a useful ally. Merchants travel, and they love gossip as much as coin." Leliana nodded. "I'll make arrangements for you to visit his summer home in Val Royeaux. Hopefully your attention should be enough to pique his interest. We'll have Calpernia's secrets yet."

#

"Gloat all you like. I have this one."

"Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn't know you had it in you."

"Why do I even - Inquisitor." Cullen caught sight of him, and immediately started to stand.

"Leaving are you?" Dorian drawled the words, leaning back in his chair. "Does this mean I win?" Cullen promptly sat back down, glaring though there was no real heat to it.

A former knight-captain and a tevinter mage. Playing a friendly game of chess. Now he had seen everything. "Are you two playing nice?"

Dorian smiled. "I'm always nice." He turned his gaze back to Cullen. "You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better."

"Really?" Matril almost laughed as Cullen moved his piece and gave Dorian a smug look. "Because I just won." Cullen leaned back. "And I feel fine."

"Don't get smug." Dorian rose. "There will be no living with you." He gave Matril a look before heading out of the garden.

"I should return to my duties as well..." Cullen glanced up at Matril. "Unless you would care for a game?"

It had been ages since he'd played. "Prepare the board, Commander."

Cullen began setting up the pieces. "As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won - which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won..." Some of Cullen's smile faded. "Between serving with the templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays."

Matril kept his face pleasant. The last time he'd seen his sister she hadn't yet learned to walk. He doubted she even knew of his existence. "All right. Let's see what you've got."

#

Mediating a fight between a Seeker and a Dwarven merchant prince. Matril shook his head as he walked out of the armory. At least he was fairly certain they wouldn't hold grudges against each other or him. He walked past a group of servants and heard enough to realize Cole was up to his usual tricks. He really should say something to the spirit, yet the good natured chaos he wrought did an excellent job of keeping rumor occupied. A quick stop in the tavern to check in on the kid revealed that Dagna had been hard at work. Cole was wearing every single piece of his clothing correctly, and there wasn't a patch to be seen. He'd paired striped pants with a patterned shirt, but at least the colors weren't too garish. And the dwarf had tossed in a nice pair of silverite daggers. She did know how to accessories.

Matril headed into the keep only to be stopped by one of the runners with a note from Leliana. Someone had apparently braced Dorian over an amulet of some kind. The conversation had grown heated. He frowned at the note before sending the runner on his way. It might be nothing, but an excuse to talk to Dorian seemed exactly the sort of welcome distraction he could use.

#

"I've been told something about an amulet..." The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow at him.

He briefly felt the urge to set something on fire. "How did you hear that? Oh..." Foolish question. "Leliana. Of course she would find out." He didn't need this. At all. "Don't make an issue of it. I don't want someone solving my personal problems for me. I'll get the amulet back..." Maybe. Possibly. It could happen. "Somehow. On my own."

"I'm not entirely certain what it is." The Inquisitor leaned on the side of the bookcase. His hair fell into his face again.

Dorian fought the now familiar urge to brush it out of his face. "The Pavus birthright. The flashy thing you show peons to make them tremble at your impressive lineage." He sighed. "I didn't leave Tevinter with much in the way of coin, so I sold it." One of several things he'd left out of the conversation with his father. "Entirely forbidden, of course, and foolish, but I was desperate. I'll figure something out." By himself, thank you very much Leliana.

"You don't even like your family. Why would you want it back?" He tilted his head at Dorian, and a curl of hair brushed against his eyebrow.

"Because it's mine, and it shouldn't be..." Temptation got the better of him. He brushed the Inquisitor's hair out of his face, smoothing back the wayward strands. The slight smile on the man's face made him wonder if he let it fall into his face on purpose. "Passed around like candy."

"That's the only reason?"

"It's reason enough. Leave it be."

The man straightened. "There are plenty of ways to skin a nug, Dorian. We'll think of something."

"And I will." He set his jaw stubbornly. "I'll get it back. I lost the amulet. I may not have your resources, but I can't ask you to..." He took a deep breath. "You have too many people asking you for everything under the sun. I won't be one of them."

#

He followed the directions Leliana had given him, only to find that the Venatori had beaten him to the merchant. Matril collected the pieces of a broken crystal that seemed to have recorded the man's last moments and tucked them away to give to the spymaster. Vicinius had been an ass, but the man hadn't deserved what the Venatori had done to him.

Matril started toward the market. Since they were in Val Royeaux anyway...

#

"Inquisitor. Good, good, this is exactly what I was hoping for." The merchant spread his hands and bowed.

"What?" Dorian shook his head. "Is that why we're here?" He glared at Matril. "I said I wanted to do this myself. I don't want to be indebted to anyone, least of all you."

"I apologize, but that won't be possible." The merchant waved a hand at Dorian before focusing his gaze on Matril. "Do forgive me, Inquisitor, but when I heard of your..." He hesitated a moment. "Association with Monsieur Pavus, I could not resist." Just exactly how far had those rumors spread, anyway? "It's not coin I seek for the amulet, but influence. Influence you possess but which the young man does not. Provided, of course, you..." The man shifted just a bit awkwardly. "Desire the amulet? For your friend?"

"Aren't you a merchant?" Matril gave him an appraising look. "Why not just sell it back?"

"I am not a fence, monsieur. I only bought your friend's amulet because of what it is. I do business in the Imperium. Having a birthright, even one not your own, is must useful in..." He shifted his weight. "Select situations." Matril had stolen a couple birthrights for similar purposes, though he hadn't actually gone far into Tevinter.

"Hmph." Dorian shook his head. "He's got the right of it there."

"That's why I gave the young man so much. If he relinquished it, how is that my doing?"

"You want something from me." Matril folded his arms. "What would you like?"

"The League de Celestine is an organization of wealthy noblemen in Orlais. I would join, but I lack the lineage." Interesting. Matril had two separate identities that were members. "If someone like you applied pressure, they would admit me. That would be worth the return of the amulet."

He could arrange it, and easily enough, even without the Inquisition's backing. "What do you think, Dorian?"

"Leave the man be." Dorian sighed. "I got myself into this, I should get myself out of it."

"Perhaps you should accept your friend's help, monsieur."

"Kaffas. I know what you think, and he's not my friend. He's..." Matril turned to look at Dorian. Exactly how was he supposed to take that comment? Dorian trailed off briefly before continuing. "Never mind what he is."

"As you desire. Even so, that is the price. I shall accept no other."

He would. Matril could play Trevelyan and threaten the man into submission, or play the Inquisitor and do the same. But he was supposed to be one of the good guys. And the League de Celestine would eat this odious toad alive quickly enough. "Very well. I'll do as you ask."

"What?" Dorian turned to look at him. "You're going to give in to this cretin?"

"Do you want your amulet back?" Why was Dorian so opposed to him helping?

"I..." Dorian fidgeted. "Yes, I do. I simply -"

"Much obliged, Your Worship." The merchant spoke up, likely hoping to settle the matter before Dorian succeeded in changing his mind. "The moment I receive an invitation from the League, I'll have the amulet delivered." He bowed. "It's been an honor doing business with you."

"Influence-mongering." Dorian glared at the man's back before turning and stalking away. "I don't want to be in your debt. I don't want to be in anyone's debt."

"Dorian..."

"I don't want to discuss it."

Matril stood there a moment, watching him leave. Well, that hadn't gone well. He sighed, and headed to the gates.

#

"Let's see what Dagna can do with that crystal." Matril nodded to Leliana. He turned and started to walk away.

"Inquisitor, a word?" He stopped and turned back to her. She gestured for him to follow her onto the balcony. "In private?"

"Of course." He nodded, and followed her.

She looked him over. "I have heard a disturbing rumor. One that connects you to a carta thug who used the name Bridget."

"Bridget was not a thug." Matril drew himself up to his full height and glared down at her. "She was a good woman. A woman who responded to a group of assholes trying to trade slaves for lyrium by busting their heads and setting the slaves free." It had taken him most of the night to come up with a cover story for that one, and even with that Tan's reaction had been... "Yes. We had an association. Not all my friends have led exemplary lives. Is that a problem for you..." He narrowed his eyes. "Sister Nightingale?"

Leliana actually looked taken a bit aback. "I..." She nodded, then squared her shoulders. "Thank you for providing the context, Inquisitor. I will do what I can to set the story straight."

"Thank you." He turned on his heel and walked away.

He made it halfway up the stairs to his quarters before exhaling and grabbing hold of the railing. If she knew about Bridget, it wouldn't take long before she... He sighed. No. It was in her best interest as well to keep whatever she found quiet. He hoped.


	9. Chapter 9

The fear was back. He was going into battle at the head of an army. Challenging the dragon had been one thing. A spur of the moment decision, before he'd come to his senses. This was something else entirely. Matril paced his tent restlessly.

"You're afraid."

He stopped. "Cole." He turned to see the spirit sitting cross-legged on the cot. "One doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that. People are going to die tomorrow."

"You're afraid for them. Must be strong, brave, set an example but what if I can't? If I falter will they flee?" Cole tilted his head at Matril. "You think you're a coward."

"I am a coward, Cole." Matril sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You fight because you're afraid to run." Cole blinked.

"It's..." He shook his head. "Complicated."

"I want to help." Cole drew his knees up to his chest. "There are so many of you. Not all of them are afraid." Cole frowned. "Some of them are eager."

"So tell me, Cole." Matril sat down on the cot, cross-legged to face the spirit. "Which mask should I wear tomorrow?"

"Not Gustave. He's scary." Cole shook his head. "You weren't wearing a mask when you stepped between him and Bridget. That was you."

Matril flinched. "Yes, well, considering how that turned out for me, it may not be the best example."

"He hurt you. But then you did it again."

"I..." Matril looked down at his hands. "Bridget was my friend." He slowly nodded. "Thank you, Cole." He looked back up at the spirit. "That helped."

Cole's face broke into a smile. "I'm your friend."

Laughing felt good. "Yes, Cole. You are."

#

A group of warriors took up a defensive position, creating a shield wall. Dorian gestured, setting the ground beneath them aflame. Cassandra and Iron Bull charged into the opening he'd created.

At his left, the Inquisitor was proving lethal with his bow. Those that thought they could attack the warriors from range soon learned they were just providing targets. And the man's hair was falling into his face again. Dorian wanted to sigh. He really should start bringing a comb on these little escapades.

"All right, Inquisitor." Cullen gestured. "You have your way in. Best make use of it. We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"I'll be fine." The Inquisitor's smile actually managed to be reassuring. Delightful. The man practically glowed with confidence. "Just keep the men safe."

"We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor." Cullen nodded. "Warden Loghain will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He's assisting them until you arrive." There was a scream, and a demon threw one of the soldiers off the wall. The Inquisitor whirled and put an arrow in the demon. Dorian couldn't tell if it dropped the thing, but found the act satisfying anyway. "There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance."

"Understood." The Inquisitor gestured at them. "Let's move."

#

"The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed." He said a silent prayer.

Relief filled him as the Warden nodded. "All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

Matril returned the nod, and led his team onward. Loghain's voice was quiet. "Well spoken. I did not look forward to killing more Wardens."

#

"Varric, Hawke." Matril turned in a slow circle, looking over the battlements. Then he shook his head. "I'm starting to wonder if my bringing an army along was actually necessary."

Hawke chuckled, setting his staff on his shoulder. "Well, someone has to applaud."

"Do what you can to protect the soldiers on the battlements." Matril rolled his eyes and smiled. He caught sight of more demons. "We'll clear the right, you clear the left."

Varric hefted his crossbow as Hawke saluted, and the two of them started moving. Matril glanced over his shoulder at his companions. "Were they keeping score?"

Iron Bull raised his eyebrow. "You're not?"

#

"Are you ready, Jana?" Matril's eyes widened as he saw the little elven girl from Crestwood walking toward Clarel.

She knelt. "I came to save people from the Blight." She stood again as Clarel drew a knife and stepped behind her. "And so you shall, child." Blood spurted as Clarel opened the girl's throat.

He wanted to notch an arrow, to put it into her knee and then leave her in the desert somewhere. The magister turned and saw them. "Stop them. We must complete the ritual."

Matril bit down the anger, and put on a mask. He held up a hand to forestall his companions, then walked forward. "Clarel, if you complete that ritual, you're doing exactly what Erimond wants."

"What, fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn't want that?" Erimond folded his arms. "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

Loghain stepped forward. "And then he takes your mages' minds for his real master: Corypheus."

Unfortunately, their words were failing to sway Clarel. He'd seen it too many times. In so far she couldn't dare risk stopping to look at what she was doing. He turned to the other Wardens. "Listen to me. I have no quarrel with the Wardens. I have spared those I could. I don't want to kill you, but you're being used..." He saw a few of them shift uncomfortably. "And some of you know it, don't you?"

"The mages who've done the ritual? They're not right. They were my friends, but now they're like puppets on a string." A Warden nodded.

"You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff." Clarel shook her head.

"He's not afraid. You are." Hawke glared. "You're afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing."

It was working. Erimond saw that too. And then he made a mistake. He turned toward them. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor. He sent me this to welcome you."

Erimond's face was gloating as the dragon appeared. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't considered what effect seeing him call down an archdemon was going to have on the Wardens. A blast of magic from Clarel sent the magister flying. "Help the Inquisitor." She yelled before turning to chase the fleeing mage.

#

They chased Clarel as she chased Erimond, while demons, Wardens, soldiers, and a dragon fought around them. Cassandra caught him by the back of the armor, yanking him out of the way of a blast from the dragon's breath. Ahead, Clarel had nearly caught up to Erimond. "You. You've destroyed the Grey Wardens." She sent a blast of magic that sent Erimond sliding across the ground.

Erimond managed a weak laugh. "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch." He managed to lift himself to look at her. "All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't wait to get your hands bloody." She sent another blast of magic at him. "You could have served a new god."

"I will never serve the Blight." Clarel strode toward the downed magister.

For just a moment, Matril thought it was over.

Unfortunately, the dragon had other ideas...

#

The Fade. They were... In the Fade. Matril looked around. "This is incredible."

Behind him, Dorian was staring. "The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me." Dorian shook his head. "Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one's dream."

Cassandra and Iron Bull were less thrilled, and Varric was a little bit disturbed as well, though Hawke's presence seemed to comfort the dwarf. Matril watched Loghain out of the corner of his eye. The man was far less disturbed about the situation that he would have expected. That made one of them. He found himself wishing Solas or Cole was there. Loghain, at least, had a good suggestion. Leap out a rift.

"That way." Matril pointed in what he hoped was the right direction.

#

Matril stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the figure in the path before them. "Impossible." He heard Loghain whisper.

"I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion."

"Divine Justinia?" Cassandra's eyes widened with disbelief. "Most Holy?"

"Cassandra."

"Cassandra..." Matril looked over his shoulder at her. "Could it be...?" He'd listened to her sermons, but she'd actually known the Divine.

"I..." Cassandra swallowed. "I don't know." She glanced at Matril before looking back at the woman before them. "It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but..." She sighed. "We know the spirits lie. Be wary, Inquisitor."

"This can't be the Divine." Loghain shook his head. "It's most likely a demon."

"You think my survival impossible." The voice was Justinia's. He'd dragged Bridget to listen to her speak several times. "Yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have."

"Really?" Hawke folded his arms. "How hard is it to answer one question? I'm a human, and you are..."

"I am here to help you." Divine Justinia's voice remained calm. She turned her gaze to him. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

"No, I don't."

"The memories you have lost were taken by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? It's work."

"Then perhaps I owe this Nightmare a visit." Loghain narrowed his eyes.

"You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair." The Divine nodded, then gestured behind her. He could see a few strangely glowing motes. Something about them called to him. His memories.

#

He stood, his thoughts confused and twisted. Behind him, Loghain straightened and looked over at him. "So Andraste didn't bestow her mark upon you. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."

An accident. It had all been an accident. Andraste hadn't... The Divine was speaking again. "Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, to use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City." She was watching him. "Not for the Old Gods but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

"So this was, what, an accident?" Matril shook his head. "A random ricochet in the middle of the fight?" If Andraste hadn't, then... "If it was, then neither the Maker nor Andraste were in any way involved in this. I'm just..." A thief.

"If you believe in the Maker, then you believe He made this world and everything in it, including your accident." Her eyes were knowing. "And if you do not, then nothing has changed." She extended a hand to point to the path that still lay ahead. "You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead." She vanished once more.

Matril took a deep breath, then put the mask of Inquisitor Trevelyan back on. He turned around to see Hawke staring ahead, shaking his head. Loghain gave the Champion a concerned look. "Is there a problem, Hawke?"

"I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision." Hawke turned toward Loghain, his face angry. "Their actions led to her death."

"Corypheus had clearly taken the Wardens' minds. You yourself have seen them do this." Loghain gestured. "In any case, we can deal with that after we escape."

"Oh, I intend to." Hawke glared.

As if he did not have enough problems. Matril turned, and began leading them onward.

#

The man hid it well, but the words of the Divine or whatever she was had shaken the Inquisitor. Dorian found himself wanting to put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder as the Nightmare continued speaking to them.

"Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." The demon laughed. "Greetings Dorian..." He felt a chill go through his blood as the thing said his name. "It is Dorian, isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father."

He had to force his fists not to clench. "Rather uncalled for." He sent a blast of fire at a demon coming at him, and saw an arrow hit it at the same time. The demon threatened to possess Iron Bull, who merely muttered that he'd like to see the demon try. Yet it did not take a fool to see the horned giant would greatly prefer to be anywhere else at the moment. Varric it taunted about dragging Hawke into yet another dangerous situation, which seemed to hit the mark as well.

"Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra." The voice rang out. "Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your 'faith' has been for naught."

"Die in the void, demon." Cassandra yanked her blade out of a rage demon as it disintegrated into nothingness.

And an arrow aimed at a terror demon... Dorian frowned. Missed. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the Inquisitor actually miss a shot before.

#

"This is the Breach back in Haven. That's how we..." Matril watched the event replay. "How I escaped." Demons coming after him, and the Divine reaching her hand back for him. She could have made it through, but she tried to help... him. He winced and half turned away when he saw the demons catch her. He saw himself lunge, grabbing at her hand, trying to pull her back.

"Go." Her last word before they took her. Before she... died.

He turned to look at the being that had guided them. "It was you." He swallowed. "They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you..." Matril shook his head. "She died."

"Yes." The face of the being that stood before them was calm and serene.

"We've been following a demon, then." Loghain nodded.

"You don't say." Hawke actually rolled his eyes.

"I am sorry if I disappoint you." She still spoke with the voice of the Divine. The calm voice that had brought him into the Chantry to hear her speak. Her form shifted, and began to glow, until the being before them was a creature of warm light.

"Are you a memory of the Divine? A reflection?" He was surprised at how much he wanted it to be true.

"If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one."

Hawke and Loghain began arguing again. He wasn't sure which mask he was wearing when he turned toward them, but both took a step back. "Now is not the time." He gestured. "We can argue once we've escaped from the giant fear demon attempting to kill us all."

#

They came out of a cavern to see the rift on the other side. And the demon between them at the rift. Matril notched an arrow, and then the spirit was there. "If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I'm sorry. I failed you, too.'" The spirit rose, driving the Nightmare back.

Matril twisted, and put his arrow into a terror demon.

#

He ran, following Iron Bull out of the rift. Dorian turned, intending to give the Inquisitor a triumphant smile. The man wasn't there. It took him a couple heartbeats to realize Hawke and Loghain weren't either. Dorian shook his head, and closed his eyes. He reopened them, and the Inquisitor still wasn't there. His fingers tightened on his staff as he found himself wondering if it were even possible to go back for them. One kiss and so many possibilities. The man couldn't be lost, he...

The Champion came through, stumbling and nearly falling. Varric ran to his side. Dorian counted the heartbeats. Seven, eight, nine... and there he was, landing in a crouch on the other side of the gateway into the Void. His hair fell into his face again as he rose, and clenched his fist in an angry gesture. The rift shattered behind him, taking the demons with it.

Then, and only then, did Dorian permit himself a sigh of relief. He felt a bit dizzy for a moment. The Champion was talking to the Inquisitor, and then a runner, and then a Warden. He heard someone ask what had happened to Loghain. The Inquisitor's voice rang out over the battlefield in response. "Warden Loghain died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight." There was a note of anger underneath his words. "We will honor his sacrifice, and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens." The Inquisitor's eyes narrowed. "Even as Corypheus and his servant tried to destroy you all from within."

"Inquisitor, we have no one left of any significant rank." The Warden shook his head. "What do we do now?"

"You leave." Dorian blinked at the Inquisitor's words. What was the man thinking? They were facing a gigantic darkspawn of a magister. "The unfortunate truth is that you're still vulnerable to Corypheus. Without Loghain to guide you, leaving the Wardens unchecked is a risk I'm not willing to take." Really? The man brought the templars in and he was... "By the authority of the Inquisition, you are banished from southern Thedas."

"Bit dramatic, if you ask me." Dorian folded his arms.

The Inquisitor shot him a look, then flicked his eyes to where the Champion was standing. "Hawke will oversee your return to the Warden fortress at Weisshaupt."

"Yes, Your Worship." The Warden sounded just... defeated.

"Your Worship." Blackwall stepped forward. "I would stay, if you allow it, and continue our fight."

"Of course." The Inquisitor nodded to him. "I have never doubted your loyalty, Blackwall." Dorian didn't miss the huge grin on Sera's face.

"Good luck with your Inquisition." The Champion nodded. "Try not to start an Exalted March on anything." He started to turn away, then glanced back at the Inquisitor. "And take care of Varric for me."


	10. Chapter 10

He walked down the stairs, leaving Leliana in contemplative silence. Part of him almost wished he'd lied, said something to give her more closure. But Cassandra would have known the truth. Matril shook his head. His companions were all taking the news with various degrees of acceptance. Varric had almost seemed in mourning for Loghain, though relieved Hawke had made it out safely. Sera'd also been upset that someone had been killed, though her opinion of Loghain was somewhat lower than Varric's. Mostly she just seemed relieved he hadn't sent Blackwall on with the others.

A few feet ahead, Dorian was going through the bookshelves as though they had personally offended him in some manner. He walked over.

"You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter history." Dorian shook his head. "All these 'gifts' to the Inquisition, and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio? Trite propaganda." He waved a hand dismissively. "But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it."

Matril smiled. "That's the Dorian I know: critiquing every book in my library."

Dorian turned toward him. "I wouldn't have to if you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause."

"Are there rebellious archivists?" Matril raised an eyebrow. "Other than you, that is?"

"If Corypheus ever starts burning masterworks of literature, I'm sure a few will pop up." Dorian tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Did I see something by Genitivi here? I could have sworn..."

He shook his head. Dorian had been snappish earlier over the banishing of the Wardens. He'd wager the man's current mood had nothing to do with the library. "What is this about, Dorian?"

For a moment, Dorian was silent. Then he folded his arms. "When we fell into the chasm, into the Fade..." Dorian swallowed. "I thought you were done for." He looked away from Matril. "I don't know if I can forgive you for that moment."

"I'm sorry you had to go through it with me." He took a step toward Dorian.

Dorian turned back toward him. "I'm not sorry I was there with you. I thought I'd lost you." His eyes flashed. "You sent me ahead and then didn't follow. For just a moment, I was certain you wouldn't. I thought: 'This is it. This is where I finally lose him forever.' Are you..." Dorian looked up at him. "All right?"

At the moment, he felt rather like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on him. It took him a few heartbeats to collect himself. "I learned a surprising amount. What happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, for one." Though he was still sorting out what exactly it all meant.

"Regained your memories. That's good, then?"

There were a few he could stand to lose. "I think so."

"You do realize this feat hasn't been performed in over a thousand years?" Dorian sounded a bit more like himself again. "Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the Blights. In comparison..."

Considering the magnitude of some of his previous fuck-ups... Matril put a smile on his face. "At least you were at my side."

Dorian chuckled. "No offense, but I'd almost rather I hadn't been."

"No sense of adventure?" Matril reached over and brushed his fingers through Dorian's hair, mussing it just slightly. "That's surprising."

Immediately, Dorian began fixing the wayward strands. He glared, but there was no heat in it. "I've not your talent for survival, and not everyone is as discerning as I." Dorian lowered his hands. "If you can walk in the Fade, others will try to follow. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed?" He shook his head. "Not all of them will be so lucky as you. What they could unleash..." He waved a hand. "My advice? Keep this quiet. Let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge."

"That's a good idea." Matril nodded.

"There are enough idiots in the world who think it they just use enough blood magic, their problems will vanish. It's exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This..." Dorian turned back toward the bookshelves. "This I don't need." He frowned at the books. "What I do need is a copy of the Liberalum. I'll wager I can find Corypheus's real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle-biter with no family to speak of? The luster would come right off." He glanced over his shoulder at Matril. "Wish me luck."

Matril nodded, and then leaned forward and kissed the side of Dorian's mouth. "Good luck."

#

Speaking of blood magic, he was somewhat relieved to learn Solas was not a practitioner. Not that he'd really thought the man was, but it was nice to have confirmation. He turned his attention to Cole. "Cole, there has to be some way to help you. I won't stand by and do nothing, but blood magic is not the answer." It was somewhat strange to learn how much he'd come to rely on the strange being. The one individual in all the world he couldn't lie to.

"Indeed." Solas nodded. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing the Amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well."

"An Amulet of the Unbound?" Matril raised an eyebrow. Assuming his mark had been right about the authenticity, one was available. The problem would be retrieving the cache without Leliana noticing. That part... might get a little tricky. "Don't worry Cole." He smiled reassuringly. "I'll think of something."

"Good." Cole nodded before walking away. "They will not take me."

#

"Indulge me a moment." Dorian sat down across from the Inquisitor.

"Oh." Trevelyan gave him a wicked smile that momentarily drove all coherent thought from his mind, and leaned back in his seat in a manner suggesting several types of sin. "What manner of indulgence did you have in mind?"

"I was..." Dorian took a deep breath. "You did that on purpose."

Trevelyan laughed. "You make temptation very difficult to resist."

Such open flirtation was a rather novel experience. Part of him wanted to engage in the banter. Confronting the Inquisitor risked damaging something that was all to quickly becoming important to him. And yet the matter insisted upon nagging at him. Dorian shook his head. "We are doing battle against one of the very magisters that created the darkspawn..." Dorian frowned. "And you banished the Wardens."

The easy, flirtatious look left Trevelyan's face, and was replaced by the serious young man. "The Wardens are gutted by betrayal and leaderless."

"Like the templars?" Dorian folded his arms. "They warred on their own, and you not only took them in, you let them stay in strength and honor."

"You..." He blinked. "You think this is about magic?"

"Isn't it?" Dorian leaned his staff against the wall, and pointedly did not look at it. "Evil templars making dark pacts and killing each other, no, by all means, stay. We'll arm you and give you shelter. Mages tricked and forced to turn on their fellows? Go, get out of Thedas."

"They were forced, Dorian. Made to act against their will, enslaved by Corypheus." He sat up straighter, and that infernal lock of hair fell into his face once more. And there was actual anger in his voice. "Should I have sent them back into battle, to risk being turned again upon their friends and comrades? The Wardens deserve more than to be fodder for demons, and I will not abuse them in such a manner."

"I..." Dorian found himself taken aback. Slowly, he nodded. "I think I owe you an apology, Inquisitor."

"The templars came freely." He took a deep breath. "I will not..." He sighed, and looked away from Dorian.

"Inquisitor, I..." Dorian frowned. There was something he wasn't saying. "Matril?"

"I'm sorry, Dorian." He slowly shook his head. "Had I known the situation in Redcliffe, I would have gone. I wish..." He nodded. "I wish I could have saved your friend. There are too few selfless people in this world."

"You..." Dorian sighed. He reached up and brushed Trevelyan's hair out of his face, fixing it back into place. "Thank you."

#

"Blackwall?"

The man brought the axe down to split another cord of wood before glancing at him. "Someone I knew once described Adamant to me." He set another cord on the block. "'Adamant is, and always will be, the Order,' he said. 'A guardian on the edge of the abyss, the lone sole that stares into oblivion and doesn't waver.' That's what Warden-Commander Clarel tried to be. What they all tried to be." He split the cord, then put another one there. "I'm told her Wardens never wavered. They went to their deaths willingly. They died for us, and Corypheus twisted their sacrifice to make it his own."

"It wasn't a Warden she sacrificed." Matril shook his head. "It was a girl, barely more than a child, who just wanted to do something brave with her life." He'd given her a bow. He should have insisted she come to the Inquisition instead. "Clarel cut her throat."

Blackwall brought the axe down again. "Her desire to protect was so great, it lead her astray."

"At some point you have to look down at the blood on you hands and ask yourself exactly who and what it is you're supposed to be protecting." Matril walked toward him. "There has to be a line, or..." He set a cord of wood down on the block. "Or what makes us different than Corypheus?"

"Inquisitor, I..."

"I'm sorry, Blackwall." Matril sighed. "I know this must be hard on you." He put a hand on Blackwall's shoulder. "Once Corypheus is defeated, we can recall the Wardens, and start anew."

"I..." Blackwall nodded. "You're right."

#

"Hey you, got an Inquisitor favor to ask." Sera hopped over a table to land in front of him.

"Please don't ask me to hit you with a stick." Matril winced.

"What?" Sera blinked.

"Iron Bull and..." He shook his head. "It has been an odd sort of day. What did you need, Sera?"

#

"We should see about training some additional healers." Matril looked over the casualty list Cullen had handed him. "They can free up the mages to concentrate on the worst of the..." He looked up as the door to the war room opened.

Cassandra stepped inside. "Inquisitor, there is a matter I must bring to your attention." She glanced over at Leliana.

He felt his stomach drop. The Nightmare had told Cassandra he was a fraud. Had she found confirmation of that fact? "Of course, Cassandra."

She entered, followed by a Dalish man in battered Warden armor. The man was pale, and looked slightly haggard, as though he hadn't had a good meal in weeks. He was about to ask Cassandra for an explanation when Leliana actually pushed him out of the way to rush to the man. "Brehan." She threw her arms around the man, and he hugged her back. Cassandra was smiling. He glanced over to realize Josephine was doing the same, while Cullen looked slightly confused.

"Cassandra?" Matril raised an eyebrow, and then blinked. "Brehan? As in Brehan Mahariel?" First the Nightingale, and now the Raven. "I thought he was dead?"

"A fair bit closer than I generally prefer things." Brehan nodded. He released Leliana, and she took a half step back before beginning to check him over. "I'm fine." He nodded to her.

"And the others, are they...?" Leliana sounded slightly breathless.

"Saitada and Sigrun are on their way to Vigil's Keep with Bren, Lars, Jethro, and Wilma of the Silver Order." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "The others..." He sighed before looking back up. "Didn't make it."

"This is..." Matril took a deep breath. "Leliana, take him to see one of the healers and fill him in on everything, then get a few of your scouts to retrieve the others. I don't want them walking into any Venatori." He gave Brehan a small bow. "Warden-Constable, get some rest. We can speak again in the morning."

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Leliana smiled before taking Brehan's arm and guiding him out of the room.

Matril looked up at Cassandra. "Cassandra, I know that man is a friend of yours, but given what we've learned recently, I am going to ask Cullen to assign a guard to him. It is for -"

"His own protection." Cassandra nodded. "Yes, I understand. I will inform him."

He glanced from her to Josephine, then shook his head and smiled. "Go fuss over your friend. Cullen and I will finish up here."

#

There was a small package on his desk. He glanced inside to find an amulet carved with Tevinter markings. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at, then he tucked it into his pocket and went to find Dorian.

#

"I believe this is yours."

Dorian turned to find Trevelyan holding out his birthright. He stared at it for a moment before taking it. "Now I'm indebted to you. I never wanted this, I told you."

He shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face once more. Dorian was starting to suspect he did it on purpose. "I didn't do this so you would be indebted to me, Dorian. I did it for you."

A sigh escaped him. "That's the problem."

"How is that a problem?" Trevelyan raised an eyebrow.

"Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could. It'd be foolish not to." Dorian saw understanding come to the other man's eyes. "He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power." He folded his arms. He could handle what they said about him. Maker knows he was used to it by now. But the thought that they'd look in askance at the Inquisitor grated at him. "That's what they'll say. I'm the magister who's using you."

"Is that all?" The infernal man actually smiled at him. "Go ahead and use me, Dorian." He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "Or are you all talk?"

He stared at him for a heartbeat before laughing. Somehow, the concern seemed a bit foolish now. Trevelyan was a nobleman after all, and he'd demonstrated already that he knew how the Game was played. He was rather talented at it, in fact. "Oh, you are glorious. I..." He chuckled again. "Am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts." He bowed. "I apologize. And thank you."

Trevelyan took a step forward, and Dorian moved toward him. He brushed that lock of hair out of the other man's face and smoothed it back once more before kissing him. And before being kissed by him. Trevelyan was a remarkably good kisser. It would be quite easy to remain there, in the man's arms, all day. "I'm going to stop before I say something syrupy, but I won't forget this..." He smiled and kissed him again. "And I will repay you. Count on it."

#

Matril felt a little more trepidation as he headed toward the war room. Worrying about one spymaster was bad enough, but now another had been thrown into the mix. Leliana was already nibbling at the edges. Then again, perhaps the presence of her previously presumed dead lover could serve as a distraction. He entered, nodding to those already present, then turned to hold the door open for Josephine to follow.

"Warden-Constable, I trust you've been brought up on the latest news?"

"Informed." He nodded. "Still working on understanding." Brehan straightened. "Leliana informs me that the rumor the Wardens have been banished from the south is true." He took a deep breath. "And of the reasoning for this decision. Once Sigrun and Warden-Commander Saitada are here and recovered, we can be on our way if that is your wish."

"No, I do not believe that to be necessary." Sending him on wouldn't negate the problem of having another spymaster in play, and the last thing he needed was for Leliana to have anything resembling a grudge against him. "You are all welcome to remain in Skyhold, provided you accept the presence of a bodyguard."

"Which you will do." Leliana folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at Brehan. "Whether you stay in Skyhold or not."

Brehan smiled at Leliana. "How many spies do you have watching Alistair and Cathiel right now?"

"Not enough." She shook her head.

He turned to face Matril. "Leliana has told me what Corypheus has done. And she had told me of what you have done. If my knowledge and skills can be of any use, they are yours." He saluted, one hand over his heart.

"I would be a fool not to accept." Matril nodded, even as he wondered exactly how much Leliana had told the man.

#

"Have you been to your quarters lately, by chance?" Dorian had the satisfaction of seeing the Inquisitor jump, then turn with a flustered look on his face. Startling Trevelyan had turned out even better than he'd hoped. There was actually a hint of red to his faintly freckled cheeks. Though his hair had fallen into his face again.

"Not recently."

"Do, when you have the time. There's..." He smiled. "Something there that might interest you." He reached up and fixed the man's hair again.

"Oh?" Trevelyan raised an eyebrow, then shook his head and gestured vaguely in the direction he'd been headed. "I should go."

Dorian smiled lazily. "I do rather like watching you leave." Oh, and Trevelyan did blush again, ever so slightly. He was going to have to lay in wait more often. Then he leaned back against the wall, and watched him leave.

#

Cassandra was scribing away when he found her. "A sonnet?" He raised an eyebrow.

She gave him a look that suggested he go do something unpleasant with himself. Then she tossed her pen down. "As if written by a dim-witted child." She sighed. "Historians will on day ask what happened at Adamant fortress, in the Fade. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. It must be recorded."

He nodded. How would history regard this, one day? "An excellent idea."

"I certainly thought so..." She glared at the parchment. "Until I started writing." She rose, and walked to the railing to look at the forge below. "I still don't know what to say about the spirit of the Divine. I saw her there, heard her voice. Yet I cannot claim with certainty it was really her. The Chantry teaches us that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, so it could have been her. Yet even so..."

"I believe it was the Divine." He was surprised at how much he wanted it to be true. "She helped us one last time."

"I hope that's true. I want to believe it." Cassandra nodded. "When I realized we were physically in the Fade, I was terrified almost beyond reason. The last time such a thing happened, we created darkspawn. We created Corypheus." She looked down at the forge again. "The world needs to know the truth this time. No more legends lost to the ages."

Matril stood and continued staring at the flames below for some time after she returned to her work.

#

Dorian saw Trevelyan head up toward his quarters, and followed. He walked quietly up the stairs, and saw him at the desk, looking over some papers. "So." Dorian had the satisfaction of once again seeing the man jump just a little. "It's all very nice, this flirting business. I am, however, not a nice man." He walked toward Trevelyan, who turned to face him. "So here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal. It'll set tongues wagging, of course. Not that they aren't already wagging." He walked behind Trevelyan, setting a hand on the small of the man's back. "I suppose it really depends." Dorian leaned forward to whisper into his ear, his lips just barely brushing Trevelyan's skin. "How bad does the Inquisitor want to be?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Trevelyan looked over his shoulder at him.

"I like playing hard to get." Dorian brushed the hair back from Trevelyan's face before sliding his hand a short way down the Inquisitor's back.

"And now?" Trevelyan turned to face him.

"I'm gotten."

#

"I like your quarters."

Matril sat up slightly in the bed, the better to observe the fact that Dorian hadn't bothered to draw any covers around himself. "Do you now?"

"Don't misunderstand. I'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity. I just like your appointments."

"Ah." Matril sat up.

Dorian sat down on the bed. "Not that I couldn't suggest some changes. Your taste is a little..." Dorian shrugged. "Austere."

"If you want to change things around..." He'd not put much of a personal touch on the quarters, though the furnishings were certainly fine.

"No. That's not what I want." Dorian shook his head. He hesitated a moment. "I'm curious where this goes, you and I." He looked away. "We've had fun. Perfectly reasonable to leave it here, get on with the business of killing Archdemons and such..."

Matril moved to sit next to him. "Tell me what you want."

"All on me, then?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"Should it be all on me?" He wasn't sure how he could answer the question. Wasn't sure he'd dare hope.

A sigh came from Dorian. "I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise." Dorian looked away again. "We end it here, I walk away. I won't be pleased, but I'd rather now than later. Later might be dangerous."

"Why dangerous?"

"Walking away might be harder then."

Walking away was a skill he'd learned well. Too soon and you miss the mark. Too late, and dangerous could be an understatement. He set his hand on Dorian's arm. It made for an interesting contrast, his pale skin against Dorian's deeper tones. A blank slate against rich color. He knew he didn't deserve this, but yet... "I want more than just fun, Dorian." He saw Dorian's eyes widen, and he ran his hand along the man's arm to take his hand. "Speechless, I see."

"I was..." Dorian closed his hand around Matril's, and looked up at him. "Expecting something different." He took a deep breath. "Where I come from, anything between two men..." He shrugged. "It's about pleasure. It's accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You'd be foolish to."

"There is more, Dorian." Funny. It certainly wasn't the first time in his life he'd been unclothed. Odd how right now he felt naked. "Right here."

"Funny I didn't recognize it, then." Dorian's smile was brilliant. "Care to Inquisit me again? I'll be more specific in my directions this time."

"There is..." It was Matril's turn to look away. "Nothing in the world I would like more." He bit his lip, and then closed his eyes. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He knew better than this, knew better than to let his heart make the choices. He should just take what was offered and accept it as enough.

"Matril?" Dorian's voice sounded concerned.

"I'm sorry. I am..." Shame filled him. He couldn't. Not to Dorian. Even if it cost him everything. "Dorian, there is something you need to know."

"Matril, amatus, you can tell me anything..." Dorian brushed his hair out of his face.

"My name isn't Trevelyan."


	11. Chapter 11

"You lied to me." Dorian stared at the man. "You..." He stood, and paced the room. "You lied to everyone."

"Yes." He was still staring at the ground.

"What is your real name then?"

"It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "I haven't been that since I was thirteen. I've been using the name Matril for a long time now." He laughed bitterly. "Bridget used to call me Mat the Rat."

"And who is Bridget?" Dorian folded his arms. "Don't tell me you have a wife."

"She was my friend and partner in the Carta. My accomplice, for want of a better term."

"Carta? You..." Dorian blinked, and then realized he was still naked. He grabbed for his underclothes and began pulling them on. "The Carta?"

"I'm a thief, Dorian. A damn good one, if I may be so bold." He looked up. "A liar. Con-artist is one term. Bard, in the Orlesian sense of the word. And if the pay was right or the act was necessary, I've been an assassin."

"You've been lying about far more than just your name." Dorian shook his head. "You..." He waved his hand and the logs on the fireplace burst into flame. "You..." He clenched his fists. "Fucked me." He got the minor satisfaction of seeing the man flinch. "You called yourself a servant of the light."

"I am trying, Dorian. I didn't ask to be Andraste's Herald or the Inquisitor. I didn't ask the Divine to die to save me. I didn't ask to be made Inquisitor or to fall in love with you or to be the only one in the world who can seal rifts or to have the Wardens -"

"You love me." Dorian stared at him. He could scarcely believe what he'd just heard. The man had chosen to tell him the truth because...

"I..." He swallowed.

"You just said you didn't ask to fall in love with me." Dorian took a step toward him.

"Letting the emotions be real is dangerous. You're supposed to hold back, keep the mask between..." He sighed, and looked up at Dorian. His green eyes were wet. "You shouldn't lie to people you love."

Dorian walked forward to stand in front of him, and gently ran a hand down his face and throat. "I am..." He trailed his fingers back up and fixed that diabolical lock of hair once more. "Considering forgiving you."

"I'm not sure I deserve that."

Something in the man's voice told him that the Inquisitor actually believed that was true. It made his stomach twist just a little. "Oh, you'll certainly have to earn it." He ran his thumb over Matril's jaw. "How did you come to work for the Carta?"

"I was discretely visiting a nobleman who paid me well for the privilege of my company." Matril met his eyes. "It is exactly as it sounds. Said nobleman had offended the Carta, and the Carta sent a couple thugs to discuss the matter. I killed both of them. Their boss found me, and informed me that by doing so I'd disrupted some of his activities and cost him a great deal of money. He offered me the choice between putting my skills to work for him until the debt was paid off or finding out how long he could keep me alive while going to work with a flensing blade."

"That's..." Dorian blinked. "I'm not sure what answer I was looking for but..." He sat down next to Matril. "Alright, where does this Bridget come into the picture?"

"She was my boss's niece or something like it. Dwarven family trees get a little complicated. We were paired on a job, and found we worked very well together. We became friends and watched each other's backs." Matril sighed. "She died at the Conclave."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Mother Giselle has taken my confession. She knows a little. And I think Leliana suspects some parts of my story are not true, but I do not know how much she knows."

"I need to..." Dorian sighed. "I need to think and..." He rubbed the back of his neck, and realized somewhat belatedly that Matril was still naked. He stood. "There are some things we are going to need to work on." He began gathering the rest of his own clothing. "Give me some time."

#

He took a deep breath and started the process of deciding which mask to put on when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "Cole, what are you doing in my room?"

"I can make you forget."

Matril fixed the collar of his tunic. "And what is it you think I should forget?"

"What Tan did to you." Cole tilted his head at Matril. "You tried to vomit it out, but it was in your head."

"Cole I..." Matril counted breaths, and got to ten before turning to face the spirit. "Tan's dead. He can't hurt anyone anymore." He sighed. "There are too many things I would like to forget. But how many can you take away before I cease to exist?"

"I don't know." Cole frowned. "There are so many of you. The mask is only in your head but you put it on and become him until you don't know which one is you anymore."

"They are all me. The mask fits better when its real."

"I don't understand."

"Good." Matril smiled. "That's one of the things I like about you." He shook his head, and then stepped forward to begin fixing Cole's cloths. "Alright, watch..." He indicated the buttons. "When you begin, they should line up at the bottom here." He aligned the vest before he began refastening the buttons. "And then it doesn't pull at your shoulder."

"You wore the clothing correctly, so that it fit you. That's how she knew you weren't a peasant boy." Cole stared at the buttons in fascination.

"Margot always did have an eye for the details." Matril nodded. "Alright..." He took a step back and gave Cole a critical look. He gestured to the couch. "Put your foot up here. Apparently we need to go over bootlaces again."

#

"Varric, just the man I was looking for." Matril nodded to the dwarven man. "I need a favor. Two favors."

"Oh?" Varric blinked. "What can I do for you?"

"I need the next chapter of Swords and Shields, and I need to know if you've got a contact in Tantervale that can do a pickup."

"The second one not a problem." Varric nodded. "The first..." Varric folded his arms and looked at Matril like he was completely insane. "What?"

"Cassandra is apparently a big fan."

"Okay, let's go over the details of the Tantervale thing, because I think the other thing may have just broken my mind." Varric shook his head.

"There is a cache I need picked up and delivered here. It has a Rivaini amulet and one other little thing that I need. Everything else can be sold and used for the relief efforts." He shrugged. "But I can't ask Leliana to handle it because the other little thing is a stolen Chantry relic that needs to get back to a Chantry without anyone asking how or why."

"How...?" Varric raised an eyebrow. "And why?"

"The amulet is to protect Cole."

"I'll get right on it." Varric straightened. "Now, I thought I heard you say something about Cassandra and my romance serial."

#

"Josephine." Matril nodded before lengthening his stride a bit to reach the door before her. He opened it, then stepped aside to let her pass. Cullen was already inside the warroom. "You look concerned."

"Relations with Ferelden are becoming somewhat strained, Inquisitor." Josephine sighed and gestured with her pen as she spoke. "If anything, the return of Warden-Commander Aeducan has only complicated matters."

"King Alistair was a Grey Warden." Matril nodded. He glanced over his shoulder to see Brehan and Leliana enter. "I imagine he is taking their banishment a bit personally."

"You've a gift for understatement." Brehan nodded. "Saitada and Cathiel believe they can get him to visit Redcliffe for an inspection, and have suggested a suitable representative from the Inquisition meet him there and perhaps smooth things over."

Matril nodded. "Leliana, put out word that I have gone to deal with a matter elsewhere. Perhaps that fortress we captured in the Western Approach?" He raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to Brehan. "We can enter Redcliffe discretely rather than create a conflict for the king. We are, after all, tied to the Orlesian Chantry." He glanced at Josephine. "Lady Ambassador, I suggest we have Brehan join us for this particular meeting."

"An excellent idea." Josephine smiled.

#

Dorian was fairly confident at least one of their erstwhile companions had picked up on the uncomfortable silence between him and the Inquisitor. Oh, they still worked together just fine, as a group of bandits that had foolishly mistaken them for refugees could attest. But the flirtatious banter wasn't present. He was surprised to realize just how much he missed it.

"Do me a favor, Dorian?" He blinked at the sound of Sera's voice. "Give me some warning if you are going to bust out in demons or something."

He laughed, as much for the welcome distraction as for the remark itself. "How do you picture me 'busting out'? I'm walking around and oops, demon?" He scratched his chin. "I mean it could happen, despite my training. You could also trip and impale your eye on an arrow."

She gave him an annoyed look. "So, are you going to warn me or not?"

"Certainly." He waved his hand in a grandiose gesture. "But only because you are so dear to me."

The gesture she made was a tad south of polite. He was considering a suitable retort when Cole spoke up. "Your clothes look like the Fade, Dorian."

"The stuff of dreams?" He spread his hands. "An explosion of color and sensation wrapped in an enigma?"

"It's shiny." Cole smiled.

Dorian sighed.

#

Matril sighed. Negotiations were going both better and worse than he'd expected. Josephine and the Queen were managing alright, but the King might as well not have been present at all. Mostly he just glowered. Solas had provided an explanation of the Breach and their theory as to how the Venatori had controlled the Wardens, which the King had grudgingly accepted. He was still adamant that Matril did not have the authority to banish the Fereldan Wardens, and the Fereldan Warden-Commander was staunchly on the King's side on that issue. At least they'd managed to clarify that Brehan was in no way a prisoner.

He leaned on the wall, and glanced up to see Dorian. "I am starting to think I should have brought Cullen. He is in charge of the Inquisition soldiers currently aiding with the reconstruction efforts."

"Bringing a Tevinter mage along when discussing the threat posed by Tevinter mages may also have been a mistake." Dorian leaned on the wall across from him. "A point I cannot imagine escaped your mind."

"It is important to you that history knows at least one son of Tevinter stood against Corypheus." Matril looked down at the floor. "Now the King of Ferelden has seen that with his own eyes."

"You..." Dorian made a vexed sound. "Has anyone ever told you that you make staying furious with you extraordinarily difficult?" He sighed, and leaned the back of his head against the wall. "When we return to Skyhold, we are going to talk over dinner. The topic of conversation will not be Corypheus."

"Ordinarily the opportunity to talk about something other than Corypheus would thrill me." Matril looked up. And then he frowned.

"Inquisitor?"

He tilted his head as he watched Brehan walk across the ramparts. The man's body language was slightly stilted. The Dalish man walked past a guard, and Matril noted that the guard's breastplate fit him poorly. "Something is wrong. I think the Venatori are here."

Dorian immediately grabbed his staff, and nodded.

#

"Your Majesty." Matril saw King Alistair coming down the hall. The man's sword was drawn and bloodied. He was somewhat wary of what that could mean.

"Someone has killed three of my guards." King Alistair shook his head. "And a mage attempted to cast some sort of enchantment at me." The king smirked. "Apparently, someone forgot to tell them I was a templar before I was a Warden."

"Well, no one has ever accused the Venatori of being particularly bright." Dorian smiled.

"We should get to your guards, Your Highness. And perhaps locate Solas. If the Venatori brought their mages it would be best to have as many of our own as possible."

"Agreed." The king readied his shield. "You know, I was just thinking how I missed the whole 'fighting for my life' thing."

Matril notched an arrow. "Well then, let's not keep the Venatori waiting."

#

Dorian noted that it was a rather interesting experience, going into battle alongside a southern style templar. Fortunately, the king had some experience fighting with mages allies, and he didn't disrupt Dorian's spells. The Venatori mage that attacked them wasn't so lucky.

Next to him, the Inquisitor's arrows meant that by the time the enemy forces closed with the king, there were only a couple left standing.

They were nearly to the barracks when Josephine came out of one of the doors. Brehan held the ambassador's arm twisted behind her back, and his other hand held a knife to her throat. There was no expression on the elven man's face. For just a moment, he thought the Inquisitor was going to take the shot. He knew the man's skills were more than adequate for the task. But then the tip of the arrow dropped.

Another door opened, and Warden-Commander Saitada came out, accompanied by a half dozen Venatori. The dwarven woman put her shield between them and the mage. The king glanced at the Inquisitor before turning his gaze to Josephine. "Lady Josephine, are you alright?"

"Yes." Josephine's voice was just slightly higher than normal.

"Right." King Alistair nodded, and shifted his shield into position. "Inquisitor, the mage, if you..." The king trailed off when the queen stepped into the room and stood in front of the mage. She drew back her bow, the arrow aimed at the king.

"Well?" The mage's voice was mocking. "What are you waiting for, Inquisitor?"

"Cathiel..." The king's voice was little more than a whisper."

The queen's arrow shifted, and Dorian realized it was now aimed directly at the Inquisitor. He formed a barrier in his mind, praying he could get it up before the arrow reached its target, but the act of casting might be all that was needed to cause the queen to fire. The Venatori mage sneered. "Drop your weapons."

The king took a deep breath, then lowered his blade. "Weapons down." He let his shield fall to the ground.

The Inquisitor dropped his bow, and Dorian did the same with his staff. The Venatori mage laughed. "Well now, the King of Ferelden and the Inquisitor. The Elder One will be pleased." He gestured, and both the queen and Warden-Commander lowered their own weapons.

And the moment they did, the Inquisitor moved. A pouch of silvery-gray powder hit Brehan, causing both the elven man and Josephine to stagger. And to his surprise, it was a small thrown knife that caught the queen in the arm. The woman started to raise her bow, then staggered before falling. And a heartbeat later a pair of daggers seemed to come from nowhere as Cole opened the Venatori mage's throat.

Behind Cole, Solas gestured. Rather than focus his magic on the dwarven woman directly, Solas quite literally pulled the rug out from under her and the two nearby Venatori. "Dorian, get Josephine." The Inquisitor grabbed his bow again as he and the king went to deal with the remaining Venatori.

#

"Your majesty..." Matril glanced down at where the king had picked up the queen. "It's a distillation of witherstalk. Puts someone out fast but does not keep them that way long."

"Ordinarily if someone threw a blade at my wife I would be furious." King Alistair nodded. He glanced at where the three guards that had come with Solas and Cole had managed to secure the Warden-Commander. The dwarven woman was struggling, but doing so silently. He flicked his gaze to where Dorian was binding the hands of an unconscious Brehan. An unconscious Josephine lay a few feet away. "Well, if the Maker any mercy, they won't remember any of this and we can tell them it was all the Venatori's fault."

"We should see to the guards." Matril nodded and took a few steps in the direction they'd been going.

The king frowned, and then his eyes widened as he looked back to the queen. He suddenly began moving down a different hallway. "My son."

Matril immediately gestured for his companions to follow. They were most of the way to the apartments when he saw the king slow his steps and breath a sigh of relief. Arl Teagan, two men in guard's armor, and a smaller figure wearing a hooded cloak stood near the door. Arl Teagan was holding a small bundle. He smiled reassuringly at the king. "He didn't even wake, your majesty."

"Thank the Maker." The king immediately held out his arms to take the infant from the Arl, and held the babe too him protectively. "Cathiel, Saitada, and Brehan are ensorcelled but secured. We need to find some way to remove them from Venatori control."

"If I may..." Matril glanced at the smaller man. He'd thought at first the figure was a boy, but on second glance he proved to be an elven man. He offered a satchel. "The information in here may help." Solas stepped foward and took the satchel from him, giving the man a slightly odd look as he did so.

"Right." King Alistair nodded. "Let's get back to the Queen and figure out how to deal with this mess. Teagan, where the hell are the rest of your guards?" He turned and started back the way they came, muttering at Teagan about not having enough soldiers as he did so.

They were most of the way back to the captives when Matril realized the hooded elven man had vanished.

#

"May I take this opportunity to apologize profusely for throwing deep mushroom powder at you?" Matril offered Josephine a cup of tea.

She took it from him with a smile. "Only if you promise to do it again should another such circumstance arrive."

"Of course." He bowed, then turned and looked up when the king entered, followed by Solas. "How are they?"

"The information in the satchel proved useful. With Cole's help we were able to make contact with a spirit that guide them to break the binding." Solas nodded, and turned to look at Teagan. "I would very much like a word with your agent."

"Which leads us to a quandry." Matril stood. "Teagan was under the belief that agent, whomever he was, worked for the Inquisition."

King Alistair blinked. "He didn't?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge." Matril shook his head. "Though I will confirm with Leliana at the first opportunity."

"Well, when you get the chance, you should also tell Leliana that she can stop sneaking spies into my court." The king folded his arms. "Once Cathiel awakens she'll negotiate some sort of Inquisition presence in Denerim that should leave everyone equally unhappy. In the meantime, Inquisitor..." King Alistair smiled. "Now that you've had a proper Redcliffe style welcome to Ferelden, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

#

Dorian sat down on the other side of the Inquisitor and began opening a bottle of wine. The Inquisitor had procured dinner for them, and he had to admit the man did have an appreciation for the finer things in life. "Alright..." Dorian poured two glasses. "How did you come to be a thief?"

"I was hungry." Matril sighed. "No, it starts earlier than that. I was..." He took a sip from his glass. "I was born into the higher echelons of the noblity, as the firstborn child. My father and I did not get along. He wanted..." Matril turned the glass of wine around in his hand. "Someone that wasn't me. Normally he was content to ignore my existence, and doted instead upon my brother. Things began to come to a head when he learned I'd been caught in the storage cupboard kissing the child of our maidservant. For one brief moment, he was proud of me." Matril took a deep breath. "Then he learned the child in question wasn't the maidservant's daughter."

"I see." Dorian drank from his own cup.

"A month later, someone hoping to goad my father into a rage revealed that my mother had an affair with an elven merchant. His goading worked a little too well, and my father killed him in a fit of rage. He confronted my mother, who, unfortunately for me, confirmed the rumor was true. My father decided that meant I could not possibly be his child. The next thing I knew I was being dragged from my bedchamber and thrown out of the gates of the family estate with orders to never again darken its doorstep." Matril took another drink of the wine. "I was thirteen.

"I got the name of the merchant, and went to confront him. He..." Matril pushed the food around his plate. "Confirmed that the rumor of the affair was true, and admitted that it was possible my father's accusation was correct. And then he opened the door, and invited me inside. Telion had married a couple years after the affair, and had two children." His smile was sad. "All elves, but they didn't care that I was human. They told me I could stay as long as I wanted or needed and his children were perfectly willing to accept the idea that I might be their brother."

"So was this Telion a thief?" Dorian was surprised to see a bit of anger flash in Matril's eyes at the question.

"He was a good man. A selfless man and..." He took another drink. "There have been many nights I prayed that the accusation was true. That he was my real father." He shook his head. "But I was young, and stupid, and wanted more out of life than to be the bastard son of an elven merchant. I went back to the estate and tried confronting my father. I demanded my birthright."

"I take it he did not react well to this." Dorian's voice was quiet.

"He beat me within an inch of my life and told me if I dared again to claim I was his child he would hire Antivan Crows to ensure I died a slow and painful death." Matril stabbed a piece of meat with his fork, but didn't bring it to his mouth. "I stumbled back to my refuge with Telion only to find my father's men had..." He set plate and fork down and picked up the wine. "They boarded up his store with him and his family inside and set it aflame. I could..." He swallowed. "Hear them screaming. Mylisa wasn't even three years old and..." He downed the rest of his cup. "I ran."

"Maker, I..." Dorian looked down at the plate and realized he had completely lost his appetite. He set it down. "I don't know what to say."

"A few nights later, I was so hungry I couldn't think straight, so I committed my first act of crime. Food from a merchant cart. Of course, I wasn't a very good thief, so then I had to run again." Matril shook his head.

Dorian was surprised to find he'd crossed the empty space on the couch to be next to Matril. He brushed the wayward strand of hair out of the man's face again, then ran his fingers through the shaggy mop of blond strands. "I'm sorry. I should not have made you speak of this."

"You didn't." Matril stared at the fire.

"When you took me to..." He put his arm around Matril, pulling him in close. "You told me if I didn't speak to my father I would never forgive myself."

"Closure is..." Matril rested his head on Dorian's bare shoulder. "You would have spent too many years wondering what it was he'd come to say."

"How do you know this, amatus?"

"My mother and I crossed paths again, years later. She sent me a letter. I threw it into the fire unread." Matril shook his head. "By the time I realized I needed to know what she had written, she was dead."

He brushed his fingers through Matril's hair again. He wasn't entirely certain which of them he was trying to sooth. "Your hair is starting to pass the threshold of endearingly shaggy to an outright mess. Perhaps I should see about fetching a pair of scissors."

"Are you offering to cut my hair?" Matril sat up slightly and looked at him.

"No, I think I am insisting upon it." Dorian brushed his hand along Matril's cheek. There was just the slightest hint of stubble. "And a good shave. Really, Amatus, if you are going to neglect your grooming I am just going to have to take charge of the matter."

"Neglect my..." He reared back, an indignant look on his face.

Dorian took the opportunity to kiss him, nipping playfully at his lower lip. "Can't have the Inquisitor looking like a common ruffian now, can we?"

#

Matril sighed and looked at the staircase. At the moment it looked like a journey into a bottomless chasm instead of the same path he walked every morning. Maybe he should just go back to bed and... He sighed. Or maybe he should just throw himself off the balcony. He squared his shoulders, and headed to the warroom.

Josephine looked up and smiled. "Inquisitor. We have been able to capitalize on our victory at..." She gave a small frown. "Inquisitor Trevelyan, is something wrong?"

He took a deep breath. He saw Leliana's eyes narrow, while Cullen just looked concerned. Brehan turned slightly to exchange a look with Leliana. "Yes, Josephine. I am afraid something is very wrong, and it is time to set it right."

"Well, then..." Josephine turned toward him. "I..."

"My name is not Matril Trevelyan."


	12. Chapter 12

"You've been lying to us all along." Cullen narrowed his eyes. "Joining the Inquisition under false premises to -"

"I didn't join the Inquisition." Matril shook his head. "I was shackled and left in a dungeon until Cassandra dragged me up a mountain at swordpoint." He met Cullen's glare with one of his own. "It was made very clear to me that leaving would most likely result in me being lynched by those who thought me responsible for the death of the Divine." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was going to explain after the Breach had been sealed, but then a dragon showed up and a mountain fell on me, at which point I was led up a flight of stairs, handed a sword, and told the Inquisition was officially my problem. Please Cullen, exactly when in all that was I given a choice in the matter?" He sighed. "I didn't ask for this, Cullen. But I am doing the best I can. I am sorry I was not honest with you from the beginning."

Cullen glared before shaking his head. "So what is your real name?"

"I am not going to tell you." Matril squared his shoulders. "Ever."

"Finding out will not be difficult." Leliana folded her arms and gave him a level look.

"You are, of course, welcome to waste your time with the attempt." He shrugged. "I told you this for two reasons. The first..." He looked at each of them in turn. "I have grown to respect all of you far too much to continue lying to your faces in such a manner. You deserve the truth."

"And the second?" Josephine raised an eyebrow.

"I have additional skills, knowledge, and favors owed me that I can bring to the Inquisition."

"And what skills are these?" Leliana gave him a knowing look.

"They are not so dissimilar from your own." Matril switched masks, shifting his persona. "I'm a thief. Damn good one. That's why I was at the Conclave." He smirked at Leliana. "Don't fret so much. The bits that made it out were safely returned to the Chantry." He saw Cullen's eyes widening slightly, and Josephine looked startled. Leliana and Brehan however, exchanged the barest glance with each other. "Yes, Leliana, I worked for the Carta. Spy and assassin." He shifted his persona yet again, adopting the cultured Orlais accent and mannerisms. "The first time we met, however, you were in the employ of the unlamented Lady Marjolaine, and I in the company of the dear Countess Labelle."

"Maker's Breath." Shock came over Leliana's face. "You're Margot's Mouse."

"Fenedhis." Brehan gave a slow shake of his head.

"And for those of us who aren't Orlesian?" Cullen's hands were resting on his sword hilt.

"Countess Margot Labelle was one of Divine Justinia's early supporters, one who aided her in being named the successor to Beatrix." Brehan folded his arms, mirroring Leliana's pose. "She had a way of ferreting out information Justinia could use."

"And whenever she was asked how she'd come by a secret, she'd say 'why a dear little mouse told me'." Leliana smiled, then shook her head. "Unfortunately, Count Labelle was not as wise, and made a critical misstep. He was executed, and a similar order was made for the countess. She vanished before it could be carried out."

"Within a short span of time, everyone responsible for that particular order was dead or worse." Brehan nodded, then raised an eyebrow at Matril. "Yet the countess never showed herself."

"We were in Val Chevin when the plague hit. I managed to procure herbs for her, but her health had never been robust." Matril resumed the mask of the Inquisitor. "Once I..." His smile was not a kind one. "Concluded our business, I left Orlais for a time."

"I will need to know more about these favors you referenced." Josephine straightened. "We must keep this information hidden, of course, but we -"

"You can't be alright with this." Cullen stared at Josephine.

"Cullen..." Matril turned toward him.

"Those people out there, our soldiers..." Cullen glared as he gestured toward the door. "Are following because you because they think you are Andraste's Herald. Her messenger. And now you tell us you've been lying all along."

"Many are those who wander in sin, despairing that they are lost forever, but the one who repents..." Matril took a deep breath. "I do not know what Our Lady has in store for either of us, Cullen. I can only stand in awe of Her mercy."

Cullen took several deep breaths before slowly taking his hand off the hilt of his sword. "What choice is there? For better or worse, you are the only one that can seal the rifts. We need you." He sighed, and then turned and strode from the room.

Leliana and Brehan exchanged a look before Brehan turned and followed. Josephine started for the door as well, and Leliana held up a hand. "Brehan is better suited to calm him than you or I, Josie." She turned her gaze back to Matril and smiled. "Margot's Mouse."

"And suddenly, Leliana..." Matril smiled back. "You remind me more of a cat than a nightingale."

"Good." She nodded. "Good evening, Inquisitor."

#

"Cullen is very cross with you." Dorian smiled when he saw the Inquisitor jump slightly. "Shall I guess why?"

"I told them." He shook his head. "Why are you lurking at the top of my stairs, Dorian?"

"I..." Dorian straightened. "Do not, lurk. I was merely lying in wait." He folded his arms. "You told them."

"Leliana accepted the information readily enough. Josephine is examining the angles." He walked toward the fire. "Cullen..." He sighed, and stared down at the flames. "Is rather justifiably upset."

Dorian walked up behind him. "You did the right thing."

"I will have to take your word on the matter." He shook his head. "That is not something with which I have any great familiarity."

"I saw you offer your life to get the people of Haven to safety." Dorian put a hand on his shoulder, moving close enough that he could see his breath moving the Inquisitor's hair. "Do not mistake me. I am still..." He moved a little closer. "Quite upset with you. I am not even certain what name I should call you by."

"Matril is..." He shrugged. "It's my name in my head, most days."

Dorian ran his hand along the Inquisitor's shoulder, then went to sit down. He sprawled to take up the majority of the couch, laying back languidly. "Alright. What pray tell, happens on those other days?"

He blinked as the Inquisitor almost seemed to shift before his eyes. The man walked to the chair like a panther on the prowl, and when he turned to face Dorian his eyes were those of an arrogant predator. He sat, crossing one leg over the other in a manner that suggested he was deigning to sit upon an unworthy throne. "There are other names." His accent was dead on for Qarinus, perfectly Tevinter. For a half moment, Dorian would not have been shocked to see the man actually call fire up around his hand. It was like looking at a complete stranger. "Other lives I have worn, when the need arose. Shall I tell you of the time I convinced a woman that her husband had taken a lover, inciting her to poison him? It was a lie, of course. The man was merely an inconvenience to me at the time, and I needed him removed in a manner that would not -"

"Stop." Dorian stood. "Just stop." He turned and took a deep breath. Then he turned around again. The stranger that had been present a moment ago was gone, and it was... Matril... looking back at him now. "Maker, I have seen desire demons that were not half as convincing."

"Vladus Merovan. Margot taught me that the best masks are those that are in part real. Find an aspect of yourself, and build the persona from that piece." He leaned forward. "Sometimes it's almost like I can hear them arguing in my head. Cole said I don't know which of them is me anymore. I'm not sure he's wrong."

"Margot." Dorian walked to the small cabinet, and began pouring them wine. "Who was she?"

"I had a mother. Yet when I think of the word it's often Margot's face that comes." Matril accepted the wine. "She was the Countess Labelle."

"And was there a count as well?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"There was. He was a useful tool in the game. Margot did not come from wealth, and the lineage of her family was questionable." Matril swirled the liquid around in his glass. "Margot took what he had, and brought him to the heights. Had he left things to her, he would have sat on the Council of Heralds. Eventually he thought he could make his own move in the game. It backfired upon him spectacularly, and was enough that her enemies would have been able to use it to bring her down as well. Fortunately, that was an eventuality for which she had planned. We fled, assumed new names, and prepared to take them down from the safety of anonymity before she returned to her position stronger than ever." Matril looked down.

"Yet that did not happen." He blinked when he realized Matril's eyes were wet. "Matril?"

"She got sick. One of the many plagues that hit in the aftermath of the Blight. Without her, there was no position to reclaim." Matril shrugged. "So I picked a new name and moved on." He took a drink from the glass before setting it down. "An action I repeated many more times over the years." He held up the marked hand. "As I would have done after stabilizing the Breach, had the choice been wholly mine. It is possible Andraste has a sense of humor."

#

Matril woke to the sound of Dorian's heartbeat. He was a bit surprised to realize he'd fallen asleep in the man's arms as they'd laid together on the couch. A few of the buckles on his clothes were dug into him rather uncomfortably, yet it was with some regret he began looking for the means to extract himself.

Dorian blinked up at him sleepily as he stirred, then sat up. He yawned, then blinked at Matril again. "What are you smiling about?" His words were slightly slurred.

"Your hair is..." He shook his head. "Rather endearing at the moment." Most of it was sticking straight up, in fact, and the man's mustache was somewhat crooked.

Immediately, Dorian began combing his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. He rose, and went to the reflecting glass hanging on the wall. "I would ask to borrow your comb, but I'm convinced you don't actually own one."

He combed his fingers through his hair and rose, grabbing fresh clothes out of the wardrobe.

#

"Got something for you." Varric held up a small wrapped parcel. He glanced at Matril curiously as the amulet was opened. "How is that supposed to help Cole?"

"I am not certain exactly." Matril turned it over in his hand. "Solas seems to know, however."

"I'm still curious how you knew about a cache of stolen goods in Tantervale." Varric shook his head.

"A little mouse hid them away." Cole's voice came from out of nowhere.

Matril laughed before reaching out to adjust Cole's hat. "That he did. Come, let's find Solas."

#

"Could it be the amulet was damaged somehow?" Matril gave Cole a worried look before turning to Solas. "I can try to find another."

"I do not believe the difficulty lies with the amulet, Inquisitor." Solas shook his head.

"There has to be some way to protect Cole." Matril folded his arms.

Solas nodded, then looked Cole over. "Concentrate on the amulet. Tell me what you feel."

#

"This amulet..." Matril shifted his pace to fall into step with Solas. "It won't..." He frowned.

"Inquisitor?"

"Does you charging it with magic mean you control Cole in any way?" It was perhaps better than some alternatives, but the notion made him decidedly uncomfortable.

"No." Solas narrowed his eyes. "It does not."

"Good." Matril nodded.

"Excuse me?" Solas blinked.

"I mean no offense, Solas. I am not saying I do not trust you." He shook his head. "I simply find the notion of binding..." He shrugged. "Distasteful."

"I see." Solas gave him a contemplative look. "May I inquire as to why?"

"I fail to see how binding a spirit is different from enslavement." He looked over at where Dorian was talking animatedly with Cole. "I do not presume to have any understanding of spirits, but it just seems..." He turned back toward Solas. "Wrong."

A small smile came to Solas's face. "Cole said you attempted to explain the concept of fashion to him."

"Yes, and once I have accomplished that task, I shall move on to teaching nugs to play chess."

"He said my tunic looks like pajamas." Solas arched an eyebrow at him.

Matril chuckled. "Well then, I suppose I should start investing in chess boards." He shook his head. "Really, a more dramatic ensemble combined with your unusual height would make for a far more striking image."

#

Dorian saw the Inquisitor flinch when Cole described what had happened to the real Cole. Matril closed his eyes for a moment before nodding to Solas, sending the elven apostate to go assist. Varric looked unhappy at the decision. And Dorian couldn't quite take his eyes off the Inquisitor's face. There was something in his eyes... He shook his head, and turned to look at Varric. "I am sure Solas knows what he is doing."

#

He paced the room for a moment, trying to clear thoughts out of his head. Then Matril sighed, and left, heading across the ramparts to Cullen's room. A runner informed him that Cullen had gone to speak to Cassandra. Matril thanked the man, then somewhat against his better judgment, went to go seek them out. The ire Cullen held for him at the moment was nothing compared to what was going to happen when the Seeker learned.

"You asked for my opinion, and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?" He heard Cassandra's voice first.

"I expect you to keep your word. It's relentless. I can't -"

"You give yourself too little credit." Cassandra's arms were folded as she glared at Cullen.

"If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit -" Cullen caught sight of him, and abruptly cut off whatever it was he was going to say. For a moment, he just glared at Matril. Then he gave Cassandra a jerky nod. "We will speak of this later." He walked out, and would have knocked into Matril had he not stepped aside to let the man pass.

Cassandra glared at Cullen's back. "And people say I'm stubborn." She turned to look at Matril. "Cullen told you that he's no longer taking lyrium?"

"Yes." Matril nodded. "He trusted your judgment on the matter."

She sighed. "He was not interested in my judgment today." She shook her head. "Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him." She held up a hand to forestall his words. "I refused. It's not necessary." She lowered her hand. "Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far."

"Perhaps Cullen and I should speak of the matter." Along with other things.

#

A small wooden box missed him by inches as he stepped through the door. Cullen's eyes widened. "Maker's breath, I didn't hear you enter. I -"

Matril closed the door behind him. "No, I imagine if you had heard me your aim would have been better."

A bitter laugh escaped Cullen. He started to step around his desk, then stumbled. He groaned as he caught the edge of the desk to prevent himself from falling. Matril immediately started forward, then thought better of it. "Cullen."

"Forgive me, Inquisitor, but you are the last person I want to be speaking to at the moment." Cullen shook his head.

"Then yell. You've more than earned the right." Matril squared his shoulders. "And if you want to take a swing at me, I'll not stop you."

"You have no idea how tempting I find that offer." Cullen straightened.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes..." Cullen sighed. "I don't know." He slammed his fist down on his desk. "Did you know Ferelden's Circle was taken over by abominations? I was there. The templars - my friends - were slaughtered. I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I - how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my knight-commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

"Of course I can, I..." Matril shook his head. He started to walk toward Cullen's desk.

"Don't. You should be questioning what I've done." Cullen gestured angrily. "I thought this would be better - that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me..." He waved a hand. "How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause..." He whirled on Matril. "I was inspired. By you, of all..." He shook his head.

"Would taking the lyrium make stomaching what I really am any easier?" Matril shook his head. "Because if it will, I'll start taking the stuff myself."

"Inquisitor..."

"They didn't break you, Cullen." He took a deep breath. "You have no idea how much I envy the fact you can say those words. Despite everything, you stood. By choice, not because you were more afraid of Cassandra than you were of a hole in the sky. I thought you so much better a man than I."

Cullen turned away. "I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it." He punched the bookshelf, causing the wood to crack. "I should be taking it."

He sought a mask, and found none that fit. So he began crafting another. He shifted his stance to one more martial. "So that's it? Things get difficult, and you back down?"

"That's not -" Cullen turned to glare at him.

"You built an army. Are you capable of leading it?" He shook his head. "Take the lyrium, stop asking questions, and just do what you are told? Or are you going to walk away and pretend it isn't happening? Leave your soldiers to my mercy, my twisted words and honeyed lies? It's so much easier that way, isn't it? Just like in Kirkwall."

"You..." Cullen glared. "Have no right to..."

"Don't I?" Matril raised an eyebrow. "Am I really the only guilty man in this room? Do you really think speaking up after the Champion of Kirkwall had done the hard part can undo everything you let happen in Kirkwall? Shall we compare the roads our hatred led us down, the suffering caused by our actions and inactions? Shall we compare the blood on our hands, Knight-Captain? Tell me, did you just turn your back on the rape of the tranquil, or did you -"

He saw stars, and abruptly realized he was on the floor with Cullen standing over him. "You son of a..." Cullen yanked him back to his feet, his fist balled up to punch Matril again. And then he caught himself. He took a deep breath, and then shoved Matril away from him.

"Well now..." Matril spat out a mouthful of blood. He was pretty sure Cullen had loosened more than one of his teeth. The man had a hell of a punch. "Guess you still have a little nerve left."

"Never." Cullen clenched his fists. "I never..."

"The one who repents, who has faith..." Matril recited the words quietly. "Unshaken by the..."

"Darkness of the world..." Cullen's voice joined his. "Shall know true peace." He met Matril's eyes. "You made your point."

"The Inquisition can be a chance to start over, Cullen. For both of us." He nodded, then wiped blood off his face. "To undo some of the harm we wrought upon this world."

"I don't know if that's possible." Cullen sighed.

"It is. Carry on as you were. Without lyrium." He raised an eyebrow, and lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. "Do you need that in writing?"

"That won't be necessary." Cullen glared at him again.

"Good." He shrugged, and wiped away more of the blood streaming from his nose. At least it wasn't broken. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go explain to the healer how I just tripped and landed on a bloody anvil."

#

He examined his reflection in the mirror, and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "Remind me to explain to you a concept called 'knocking'."

"You wanted him to hit you." Cole frowned. "You think you deserved it."

"It is..." Matril sighed. "More complicated than that. Yes, I wanted him to hit me. And yes, I deserved it."

"Would you really have killed him?" Cole tilted his head.

Matril touched the sleeve where he kept the poisoned dagger, and sighed. "Oh, Cole, you have no idea how pleased I am I didn't have to find out." He shrugged. "Or perhaps you do."

"I don't understand." Cole perched on the edge of Matril's desk.

"There are..." Matril leaned against the wall, folding his arms. He sighed. "I have to believe redemption is possible. However, if one does not care enough to feel guilt, then it is not a path that can be tread. Shame is how one learns to do better, to be better."

"Consequences raging further than the moment. How many innocent lives stolen, shattered, sundered, so much pain and so easy to turn a blind eye. Am I angry at him or me?" Cole's voice took on an accent Matril recognized as the one he'd adopted since taking on the role of Herald.

"Both."

"You aren't a demon." Cole shook his head. "You didn't make them."

"Cole, I..." He swallowed. "Do me a favor."

"Stay me." Cole nodded. "I will try."

"Thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

He watched Cassandra walk way, still clutching the book they'd taken from the Lord Seeker. The Inquisitor watched her as well, then started to shake his head. "Maybe I should -" He cut off with an abrupt yelp.

Dorian blinked. "Cole, why did you bite the Inquisitor?"

"He told me if he was thinking up excuses I should bite him or something." Cole gave him a confused look.

"I did not mean that literally." The Inquisitor rubbed his upper arm.

"Oh." Cole nodded. "Sorry."

#

If Cullen hadn't stepped between them, Matril was pretty sure Cassandra would have her hands around his throat right now. "Calm down, Cassandra." Leliana put her hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "We can use this."

"He lied to..." Cassandra shook her head. "All of us."

"I have to admit..." Iron Bull smirked. "I'm a little impressed. Ben'Hassrath figured out he was lying about being from Ostwick, but thought it was because he was a bastard out of the Wycome Trevelyans." He glanced at Leliana.

"We had..." Leliana folded her arms. "Come to a similar conclusion."

"Margot's Mouse." Vivienne gave him a contemplative look. "Marvelous work with Lord Lafen, darling."

"Well, this story just took on an interesting twist." Varric chuckled.

"Agreed." Solas clasped his hands behind his back.

Blackwall and Cassandra still looked pissed. Sera narrowed her eyes at him. "One question."

"Ask." Matril turned toward her.

"Any of your alter egos Friends of Red Jenny?"

Matril nodded. "Byron Coerla and Olivier Noe."

"Wait..." Varric blinked. "You're Olivier Noe?"

"Yes." Matril smiled at the dwarf. "And you owe me money."

Sera cackled.

"You realize if the Venatori learn this..." Cassandra gestured angrily.

"It is not as though we actually gave him a choice." Josephine shook her head. "About joining the Inquisition, or leading it."

"This could ruin the Inquisition." Cassandra folded her arms.

"Then it is best if no one outside this room learns this information." Cullen sighed, and met Cassandra's eyes. "I don't like it either, Cassandra. But without him, we will be lost."

She glared at him for several more heartbeats, and then nodded.

#

"That went..." Dorian sighed. "Both better and worse than I anticipated."

"Feel strange." Matril leaned on the wall, looking down. "I can't remember the last time I..."

"Was honest with the people who cared about you?"

"Had people that cared about me." Matril shook his head. "At least in the sense of there being more than one. Margot and Bridget were..." He sighed.

"I am fairly confident Cassandra wants to punch you."

"Well, Cullen already did, so..."

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "I thought said you fell."

"I lied." Matril shrugged. "I do that."

"Well...' Dorian put his hand on the back of Matril's neck and pulled him closer. He kissed him. "Stop." He pulled back, then gestured to the couch before sitting. Matril sat next to him. "Tell me something true." He put an arm around Matril. "Why are you afraid of spiders?" He blinked when Matril tensed. "Amatus?"

"It's, uh..." Matril swallowed. "That would be beginning a story in the middle."

"Alright." Dorian ran a hand down his arm. "Begin at the beginning."

"I was..." He took a deep breath. "I ran, and ended up in the bed of an Antivan Crow. He used me for a few weeks, then lost me in a card game. I was traded away, sold, and..." He shrugged. "Ended up in a brothel. An Orlesian noble found me to his liking. He decided it was more cost effective for him to simply purchase me as his..."

Dorian caught his hand. "Amatus."

"He'd often leave me tied to the bed, or locked in a closet. The closet had spiders." Matril leaned back. "Having spiders crawling on you while your hands and feet are bound so tightly you cannot move is not a pleasant experience."

"This noble..." Dorian narrowed his eyes. "Is he dead?"

"Yes."

He leaned back, letting Matril go quiet for a few moments. His stomach rolled. He'd expected a silly sort of tale, such as a spider in a candy jar or... "And how did Countess Labelle manage to rescue you from this?"

"The nobleman was her husband." Dorian's eyes widened at Matril's words. "He'd tied me to the bed again, then left to attend a party after telling me what he intended to do when he returned. Except some Duke or another invited him along on a hunting trip and he forgot about..." Matril hunched his shoulders a little. "It a few days before Margot realized she needed a ledger her husband had left in his wing of their estate and came looking for it rather than send a servant. She found me and..." He looked up at Dorian. "Most women, in her position, would simply have disposed of me somewhere after having my throat cut. Margot held my hand and spoon fed me honeyed water until I was coherent again."

"But..." Dorian blinked. He shook his head. "You said earlier that the Count Labelle was executed when..." He widened his eyes. "She let him live after..."

"He was still necessary to the game." Matril shrugged.

Dorian just stared at him. He sought words and found none. As much anger as he had for the deceased count, he couldn't help but think if Margot were there as well he might just set her on fire. "Let us speak of more pleasant topics."

"Such as you, for example?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"I am a topic very worth discussing." Dorian smiled. The count and countess were both dead, and perhaps it was best to banish them both from the room.

#

"Do any of your alter egos owe me money?" Varric brushed a bit of dirt off Bianca.

Matril retrieved an arrow. "What makes you think I would ever answer that question honestly?"

"Is Cassandra talking to you again yet?" Varric glanced at where Cassandra and Blackwall were both glaring the occasional dagger at him.

"Mostly words they don't let you print in most countries." Matril shrugged.

Solas gave Matril an appraising look. "Lying your way into being one of the most powerful men in the world is quite an accomplishment."

"Chuckles, you almost sound impressed." Varric shook his head.

"I am." Solas clasped his hands behind his back. "There are not many who could fool such a diverse group. And then to tell the truth after accomplishing that particular feat..." He tilted his head at Matril. "You are an interesting puzzle, Inquisitor."

#

"Your friend is a spirit?" Matril raised an eyebrow at Solas. "Like Cole?"

"In a sense." Solas nodded. "It -"

"We'll help." Matril squared his shoulders.

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Solas smiled. "I got a sense of my friend's location. I will mark it on our map."

#

Matril stood, watching Solas walk away. The corpses of the mages lay on the ground, still smoldering. As calm as Solas normally was, the man's temper was quite something to behold. He just wished they could have saved the spirit.

There was something more to Solas. The man was honest, but truth can be a fine lie if spun in the proper fashion. He shook his head. He was the last person in Thedas with the right to judge another by the truth they chose to wear. Matril turned, and headed back towards the camp.

#

"You are quiet tonight." Dorian sat down behind Matril.

"Just pondering mays and might have beens." Matril gave him a half smile. "The ramifications of choice."

Dorian shifted to wrap his arms around Matril from behind. "Any particular choice troubling you?"

"Rilian." Matril leaned back against him. "The elven boy that may have been my brother. What he would have thought of the Dalish camp. What he could have been if..." Matril swallowed. "Things had gone otherwise."

He wasn't sure how to reply to that. There had been times in his life he'd wanted siblings. He couldn't quite imagine what it would be like to have had two sets and lost both. "I..." He found himself more hesitant than he'd expected. "Was wondering if you'd like to share my tent tonight."

"And to what purpose would I be sharing your tent?" Matril sat up, turning to look at him.

Was the man really going to make him say it aloud? "I think I may, perhaps..." He smiled. "Be prepared to forgive you. Or at least, permit you the opportunity to earn such a thing."

"Hmmm..." Matril smiled. "I'm sure I can think of a few convincing arguments."

#

"Are you finished?" Matril gave his companions an irritated look.

Sera was literally on the ground, laughing. Varric was holding onto Iron Bull to keep from falling over, and Iron Bull was shaking with mirth. Cassandra was fighting a smile of her own. She glanced again at the burning remains of the tent and made a snorting sound. Dorian was refusing to look at anyone, his face several different shades of red.

"It's friendly fire." Cole was looking at the flames with a smile.

Matril stared at him a moment, then just started laughing.

#

He saw Solas enter the gate, and walked down to meet him. Matril wasn't sure what mask to wear for this situation. He never quite was, with Solas. "Are you alright?"

"It hurts." Solas nodded. "It always does, but I will survive."

"I'm sorry, Solas. I wish there was more we could have done." He sighed. "Too many innocents caught between..." He shook his head.

"You did all you could." Solas managed a smile. "You were a true friend."

"There's no way to..." Matril sighed. "I'm not even sure what I'm asking. If spirits embody emotions then..." His gaze went to the tavern where Cole often stayed. "Can they truly die?"

"It isn't the same as for mortals. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again."

"Then your friend may return?" Matril turned back toward him.

"No, not really. A spirit's natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me." Solas shook his head.

Matril could tell it was the latter part that hurt the man the most, he just wasn't sure why. "I'll let you get back to work, unless..."

"Unless..." Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Well to be honest, admittedly something in which I rarely indulge..." Matril shrugged. "You look like you could use a drink."

#

They sat in companionable silence, watching the Inquisition go about their lives below. "I think this is part of the problem." He tilted his head.

"Pardon?" Solas glanced at him.

"The view. I can see them all, but from here they seem so..." Matril shook his head. "Small. So many nobles live their lives with only this perspective." He set the glass down on the table.

Solas leaned out, looking at the people. "And yet, from down there, you could see only what was right in front of you." He pointed. "From here you can see the soldiers, the servants, the farmers, and how they interact and intertwine in their daily lives. Each group dependent on the others, so much so that it rarely enters their conscious thought. It is simply a part of life."

"Or perhaps we've both simply had too much wine." Matril smiled.

"Also a possibility. Tell me something, Inquisitor." Solas shifted to face him. "Has the mark changed you in any way. Your mind, your morals, your..." He gave a small frown. "Spirit?"

"If it has, I would be the last person who would know." He shrugged. "And Cole likely would have said something about it by now."

A small laugh came from Solas. "An excellent point."

"Why do you ask?"

"You are..." Solas frowned. "Not what I expected. And I am not speaking of your assumption of a false name."

"Strange. I usually try to make certain I give people exactly what they expect. Playing on their assumptions makes things much easier. An elf dressed as a backwoods peasant. Easily dismissed, until one notices the staff. Then they see the quiet elven scholar, polite and cordial. Masks upon masks. Except every now and then, it sleeps, and there is a glimpse of the man beneath." Matril took a drink from his glass. "He's a somewhat terrifying fellow."

"Then one must wonder why you bring him up." Solas raised an eyebrow.

"You are welcome to your secrets, Solas. I just wanted you to know that you do have friends here, and if you do wish to speak..." He smiled. "I will listen."

"You are an interesting man, Matril." Solas leaned forward. "One I once knew said that the measure of a man is not revealed by light. That the truth of a man is who he is in the darkness. I wonder, Matril, who you will be when the night closes in."

"You are not the only one who does." Matril shrugged.

"Most people are predictable." Solas smiled. "Yet you are more subtle than most, and at times you show a wisdom that is..." He shook his head. "Unusual. Tell me something..." He looked up at Matril. "Are you of noble birth?"

"Define nobility." Matril smiled. "Is it Cassandra's birth that makes her noble, or her actions? The most noble being I have met in all the lifes I have lived cannot actually be said to have been born. And then we have Varric, born a noble, ranked a noble, eschews all things noble, and yet nonetheless is in every way that matters, noble." He set his glass down. "What of you, Solas? Was your own birth noble?"

"The first nobles were often the strongest or wisest of a people, those that were looked to for leadership. They rose, some perhaps too far. Their children learned from them, received better training and education, and so became leaders in turn. Yet somewhere along the line, nobility became an entitlement rather than something that must be earned. A slow, inevitable crawl into decadence."

"When people lose the right or capacity to question." Matril nodded.

"If I may ask, why do you hate slavery?" Solas took a drink from his own glass.

"Because it is wrong." Matril picked his glass up again. "When you take away choice, you take away our capacity to define ourselves. Take away all that makes one a person. And..." He shook his head. "It is a hard thing to overcome, being taught that you cannot question, cannot..." His fingers tightened on the wine glass before he forced them to relax. "There is no greater evil than doing that to a person."

"You have been a slave." Solas slowly nodded. "I am sorry, Matril. I did not intend to bring up such memories for you."

"Our experiences make us who we are, Solas. I was a slave. As, it seems, once was Calpernia. Have you ever read the writings of Shartan? He said, 'that which we choose to oppose defines who we are'." He met Solas's eyes. "Who are you, Solas?"

"A man who seeks to undo a mistake he once made. Like many who have come here, I expect." Solas raised one corner of his mouth. "For what it is worth, Inquisitor, you have my respect."

"It is worth far more than you think, Solas. And the feeling is mutual."

#

"You..." Dorian glared at Matril. "Removed the draperies from the bed."

"They were getting a tad dusty." That infernal man had the gal to smile. "I asked a servant to take them to be washed.

"I light one tent on fire..." Dorian folded his arms.

"They really were dirty, Dorian."

"If you are going to lie to me, Amatus..." He made a great show of turning around.

"And I have no wish to be roasted to death in my own bedroom." Matril came toward him. "Nor to prematurely interrupt our evening."

"I wouldn't have lit anything on fire if you hadn't..." He turned back toward Matril, glaring again.

"So..." The man gave him an innocent look. "Are you saying you don't want me to do that again?"

"I..." Dorian shook his head. "Well now, let's not be hasty."


	14. Chapter 14

Dorian levered himself up on one arm, and looked at the man sleeping beside him. Asleep and at peace, those freckles made him look very young. A brief frown came to Dorian's face when he realized he didn't know how old Matril actually was. He imagined the man could pass from anywhere between sixteen and forty with little effort. Come to think of it, he probably had. And his hair had fallen into his face again. Dorian refrained from brushing aside the offending strands.

"Go ahead."

He blinked at the sound of Matril's voice. "Pardon?"

"My hair is irritating you." The man didn't even open his eyes.

"I am starting to suspect..." He soothed the hair back. "You do it on purpose."

"Now why would I tempt you to such an intimate touch?" His lips curled back in a smile. A frown came to Dorian's face. Matril must have sensed it, because he opened his eyes and looked up. "Dorian?"

"It is on purpose. A young, vulnerable look that invites touching, creating a false intimacy." Dorian sighed. "How many have you lured in with those careless locks?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, Dorian?" Matril sighed.

"No." He laid back. "I suppose I don't. No more than I want to think about..." He took a deep breath. "How you may have acquired the skills I enjoyed during the night."

"The only part that matters in the here and now, Dorian, is that we both enjoyed ourselves." Matril intertwined his fingers with Dorian's. "And nothing caught fire."

"Tell me something true." He ran his thumb across the back of Matril's hand. "A good part of your life."

"There was Bridget." His smile was both fond and sad.

"How did you meet this Bridget?" Dorian made himself more comfortable.

"Bridget and I were sent to collect funds from a particular merchant. I had never met her before, I knew only that she was Tan's niece. For that reason alone, I was on guard and prepared to hate her." Matril lay back on the bed. "We handled the job successfully. It was just after the hand-off that things went horribly, horribly wrong. Our contact's people picked that moment to betray him. Things happened, and well, Bridget and I ended up fleeing through the storm drains, with me wearing nothing more than a stolen altar cloth, and -"

"How, exactly, did you end up wearing nothing more than a stolen altar cloth?"

"If you interrupt, I am not going to tell the story."

"My apologies, Amatus. Do go on."

#

"Inquisitor..."

He turned to see both Leliana and Brehan standing there with concerned faces. "Yes?"

"We may have a problem." Leliana sighed. "Regarding the truth of your identity."

"How large a problem?" Matril folded his arms.

"Josephine had received two inquiries from members of House Trevelyan inquiring as to your specific place within the family tree. Someone, it seems, has been asking questions." Leliana shook her head. "Other than us."

"Ben'Hassrath?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We don't think so." Brehan shook his head. "Iron Bull not withstanding, they do know how to be subtle. Someone is trying to draw attention to the questions."

"Josephine has managed to smooth things over without direct answers, but if they keep pushing..." She sighed. "We may have to go with the bastard story. Find a deceased member who cannot deny the accusation. It is to the advantage of the Trevelyans to accept the story and claim you."

"The trouble in part stems from exactly that. Whichever branch does claim you gains prestige from your status as Andraste's Herald." Brehan chuckled. "We could probably pick a living member and they'd eagerly report how the sun shone upon your birth."

"Wycome may be the best choice then." The further away from Lukas, the better. Matril nodded to his spymasters. "They have long been outshone by the Ostwick branch. And they have many templars among their ranks as well. Templars siring bastards is common enough."

"What do you think?" Leliana turned toward Brehan. "Servant, or tavern wench?"

"Leliana." Brehan shook his head. "This is history we are creating." He smiled. "Grateful peasant girl rescued from a wicked maleficar."

"Ah, the hero angle." Leliana smiled. "Potential. A sweet and romantic love story cute tragically short by the valiant death of said templar before he could learn of his son and make good on his promise to marry our heroine?"

"Leaving behind a tragic keepsake." Brehan tilted his head, then shrugged. "I'm sure we can steal something appropriate."

"Why mess with a classic?" Leliana waved a hand. "Engraved Andrastian amulet."

"Well..." Matril chuckled. "You two have fun and tell me the story later. I'm eager to learn my past."

"Let's go over names." Leliana started walking away.

"Those do tend to be the problematic part when setting a tale to verse." Brehan nodded as he followed.

"Ugh. Remember how hard it was finding a good rhyme to pair with Brosca?"

#

"What..." Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "Do you want?"

"A peace offering." Matril sank to his knees, and held the book out in front of him as though presenting her with a crown.

"Stop being ridicu..." Her eyes abruptly widened, and she stared at the item in his hands. "Is that?"

"An advance copy of the latest issue of Swords and Shields."

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, started to step forward, stepped back, then stepped forward and snatched it out of his hand. "How did you...?"

"Varric is not cheap..." He rose. "But he can be bought." He took a deep breath. "All joking aside, Cassandra..." He sighed. "I do hope that you can forgive me for how thoroughly I have disappointed you, and that you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance."

"That's the..." She glared. "I don't know what is more infuriating. That I know you are manipulating me, or that it is working."

"I am being truthful here, Cassandra. I respect you more than I have anyone in a long time. You are a woman of deep honor and nobility, and I did not realize how much I valued your good opinion of me until I lost it." He bowed. "Please give me another chance."

"I..." She took a deep breath. "One. Exactly one."

"I thank you." He smiled.

Cassandra nodded, then looked down at the book in her hand. "I wonder if I have time to read the first part?"

#

"You want them to be proud of you, so that you can be proud of you." Cole frowned at him.

"I want them to..." Matril sighed. "It's complicated Cole. I am not sure I know how to explain it to you."

"But you are you regardless of whether they like you or not." Cole tilted his head. "You choose your mask, not them."

"There is no me without them, Cole." He leaned against the wall, then sank down to sit against it.

"The weight of them is heavy. You are theirs, but you must be you. There is no one else for you to be." Cole sat across from him. "You kept the name she gave you."

"There was no other keepsake she could give me." Matril shook his head.

"It was wrong of her to ask."

"Cole, stop." Matril's voice was sharp. He sighed when Cole shrank away, then drew his knees up and rested his arms atop them. "Sometimes the cruel cut is the only kindness left one can give. I would have thought you would understand."

"But there were others who would have done it. It didn't have to be you." Cole shifted. "I would have done it for you."

"You weren't there, Cole."

"Wishing, washing, weeping. So many lives taken but it's her blood you see on your hands."

"I drove a dagger into her heart. That's not..." He closed his eyes, then reopened them. "Tell me. Was there anything else I could have done to save her?"

"I can make you forget."

"No." Matril shook his head. "No, Cole that you must..." He met Cole's eyes. "That you must never do."

"If you lose the thread it all comes unraveled." Cole frowned. "If you don't want me to cut it away, you should tie it in knots." He shook his head. "You made a mask of iron so it wasn't you he was hurting, and she wore a mask of silk so that she wouldn't see."

"It is the Game, Cole. Not all aspects of it are pleasant."

"If she had killed him for what he did, she wouldn't have lost."

"Shut." He rose, staring down at Cole. "Up."

Cole crawled backwards, staring at him with wide eyed terror. The spirit scrambled to his feet and vanished into the darkness.

#

He gave the dress uniform a critical look. "Red?" He raised an eyebrow at Josephine.

"We thought it would stand out better in the crowd." Josephine nodded.

"It's really not the best color for everyone though. Pure white would have been a better option, and have the same effect."

"Red won't show bloodstains." Cullen frowned as he looked down at a report.

"Josephine, make a note." Matril shook his head. "In future questions of fashion, Captain Practical over there does not get a vote."

"Yes, Inquisitor." Josephine smiled.

"I..." Cullen shook his head. "Wanted formal armor."

#

Matril nodded at the gate ahead of them. "I am laying claim to the Antivan bathhouse, effective immediately."

Varric blinked. "How'd you know my estate had an Antiva bathhouse?"

"This particular estate was acquired in a card game."

"Yeah, while we were in..." Varric buried his face in the palm of his hand. "Andraste's ass. That was you?" He blinked. "How the hell did you..." He stared up at Matril. "Lose playing Diamondback with Fenris?"

"Intentionally." Matril grinned.

"You know the previous owners actually sent assassins after Hawke?" Varric shook his head. "He had to kill almost three dozen of them."

"Josephine..." Matril turned toward her. "When we get back to Skyhold remind me to send Hawke a fruit basket and a thank you note."

#

"Relax, Commander." Matril chuckled.

"I have things I really should be doing." Cullen shook his head.

"We need one of these for Skyhold." Iron Bull laid back, relaxing in the steaming bath.

"Surely we have enough builders to manage something of this sort." Dorian sounded half-asleep.

"I should check on the..." Cullen started to reach for a towel.

"Cullen Stanton Rutherford." Matril sat up, making his voice a sharp bark. "Sit down, and commence relaxing at once. That is an order."

Cullen laughed. "Yes, Inquisitor."

"I think the Inquisitor has to be the one lying," Krem said.

"Nope." Varric snickered. "Me that time. Hawke has never actually torn a door off the hinges."

"I saw the door." Cullen started shaking his head.

"And you've also met Aveline." Varric grinned.

"In that case, I must ask..." Solas tilted his head at Matril. "How does one acquire a great bear while in a quiet Antivan village?"

"An excellent lead into round four." Matril smiled.

#

Dorian was just reading up to fix that errant lock of hair again when several men approached. He reached for his staff instead, and saw Cassandra's hand go to the hilt of her sword. "Herald of Andraste..." The man in the lead smirked.

Matril squared his shoulders. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sir...?"

"I am Lord Myron Trevelyan, of Wycome." The man flicked his eyes. "I see your Tevinter handler has accompanied you. How dare you embroil my family's good name in this farce?"

A chill went through him. The man's shouting was drawing entirely too many eyes. "Lord Myron..." Matril shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"That mark on your hand is Tevinter blood magic." The man pointed at Dorian. "Proof stands right behind you. And you dare claim my family name?" He jutted out his chin.

"I see someone has been filling your head with tall tales, cousin." Matril smiled, and held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Come, let me buy you a drink."

"The man is calling you a liar, Inquisitor." One of the men behind Lord Myron spoke up, smiling. "Are you truly going to let such an insult pass?"

"We live in a world of rumors." Matril kept his voice calm, even managing to inject a note of good humor. He shook his head. "I cannot be angry at someone who merely wishes to ensure our family name is treated with respect."

"I denounce you." Lord Myron glared. "If you are a man of honor, you will answer the charge." He laid a hand on his sword hilt.

He glanced at Matril. The man knew his way around a dagger and was one of the finest archers he'd ever seen, but a sword duel was another matter entirely. Cassandra stepped up. Apparently he wasn't the only one with such concerns. "If it is a duel you wish -" She moved to stand in front of Matril. At the top of a nearby set of stairs, Iron Bull and Blackwall began moving in their direction.

"This does not concern you, Seeker, only the bastard behind you." Lord Myron sneered at her.

"So unless you are going to try to claim to be secretly a Trevelyan, Lady Pentaghast..." The man behind Lord Myron's smile widened. "I suggest you step aside. This is strictly a family affair."

"Well, then..." A new voice spoke from somewhere to their left. Dorian turned to see a well-dressed man with dark red hair coming toward them. His walk put Dorian somewhat in mind of a stalking cat, and his smile was pure arrogance. He glanced at Matril, and noted with some concern that the man had gone pale at the sight of the newcomer. "I suppose that makes this my concern."

Lord Myron took a step back, his face startled. "Bann Lukas, I..."

The newcomer spared a glance for Matril as he moved to stand between Lord Myron and Cassandra. "It appears someone has been misusing my family's name."

The smile returned to Lord Myron's face. "It does indeed, my lord, I..."

"Lord Myron, family matters are to be discussed privately, not shouted before the whole of Orlais." Bann Trevelyan put a hand on his sword hilt. "And my little brother may be a bastard, but I am the only one that gets to call him that."

#

He stared at Lukas, not quite believing what the man had just said. From the look on his face, neither did Lord Myron. "My lord, I..." Lord Myron shook his head.

"You've issued a challenge." Lukas bowed. "As head of house Trevalyan..." He drew his sword. "I accept."

Matril saw realization on the faces of the men who were obviously Venatori. Lukas's presence had effectively gutted their plan. The man who had spoken made a growling sound, and then made the fatal mistake of drawing his blade. As did the others. He went for his bow as Cassandra and Lukas spun into the fray back to back as though they had done it a thousand time.

And it was over before either he or Dorian could bring their talents to bear. Iron Bull and Blackwall hadn't even made it to the base of the stairs. Lukas kicked a corpse off the end of his blade, then pointed the tip of it at Lord Myron. "My father had an affair with a serving woman, resulting in the birth of a bastard to the Trevelyan line. Lord Josef Trevelyan has always considered the man to be his son, and wishes it be known that he carries the family name with our blessing. This is my father's word, and I will not allow my family's honor to be questioned." He narrowed his eyes. "Least of all by a grasping little sycophant who would sell his soul to the Venatori to pay off his gambling debts."

"I understand, Lord Trevelyan." Lord Myron started bowing as he backed away. Titters from the crowd made him go crimson before he finally abandoned dignity altogether and just started running.

Slowly, the crowd began to clear. He swallowed as Lukas turned around and walked toward him. "Thank -"

He was cut off by Lukas grabbing him by the front of his coat, and yanking him both forward and up until their faces were inches away from each other. "My little sister died on that mountain." Lukas's voice was little more than a growl. "You will find the thing responsible, and you will end him."

"Yes." Matril nodded.

Lukas released him. "Good enough." He shook his head. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the tavern." He stalked away. The remains of the crowd parted to let him through.

#

"What happened?" Josephine came towards them, Cullen a step behind her. Leliana and Brehan followed a few moments later. "We heard there was a duel?"

"Duel may be overstating the matter." Cassandra folded her arms and glanced at Matril.

Matril swallowed. "Lukas Trevelyan is here."

"Alright, I can..." Josephine started gesturing with her pen. "I can think of..."

"He has publicly acknowledged me as his illegitimate little brother." Matril gave a small laugh. "Then he humiliated the shit out of the guy who brought the subject up."

"I assume you two are previously acquainted?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

He winced. "Yes."

"We should find him." Cullen shook his head. "Did he say where he was going?"

"To the tavern." Cassandra shook her head.

"That's less than helpful." Josephine sighed. "Do you have any idea how many taverns there are in Halamshiral?"

"A hundred and twelve." Leliana, Brehan, and Matril answered simultaneously.

Josephine just stared at them as Cullen snickered. Brehan shook his head. "I'll go track him down." He nodded, and left the room.

"Amatus..." Dorian scratched his head. "Didn't you say you were using the name Otwin Trevelyan at the Conclave itself?"

"Yes." Matril sighed.

"As I recall, Otwin is an actual person."

"Yes."

"Lukas's actual younger brother."

Matril winced again. "Yes."

"Do you think he knows that you were..."

"Oh sweet Maker." Matril rubbed his face. "I hope not."

#

"I want to buy you a drink." Iron Bull seated himself on the stool next to the nobleman.

Lukas shrugged. "Won't turn down a pint. You'd be the Iron Bull?"

"Yep. And you'd be Lord Trevelyan. Appreciate what you did back there." Iron Bull shrugged. "Thought for a minute shit was about to get really bad. Take it you and the Inquisitor know each other?"

"I once threw him out of my estate."

"Ah."

"From a third-floor window." Lukas drank from his mug. "The man's survival ability is rather impressive, I'll give him that." He looked around the bar. "Thought about starting a brawl, but this place doesn't have enough furniture worth breaking."

"Could find a better class place."

"Those are full of nobles."

"Yeah, be fun to see them all scatter when we start throwing tables."

"Tomorrow is going to be busy." Lukas gave Iron Bull an appraising look. "Why don't we cut to the chase and go break a bed?"

Iron Bull laughed. "Sounds good to me."

#

"How do you and Bann Trevelyan know each other?"

"You really want to know?" Matril raised an eyebrow at Cassandra.

"I do not want to know. I am concerned I may need to."

Matril sighed. "We..." He shrugged. "Had a thing."

"A..." Cassandra folded her arms. "Thing?"

"He won a grand melee, had gold to spend. I was happy to let him spend it on me, and we spent some time in bed together. Then I robbed him of some family heirlooms."

Cassandra ran a hand down her face. "Does he know you robbed him of some family heirlooms?"

"Possibly. Maybe. Yes." Matril sighed. "He confronted me. I tried threatening him into silence. He threw me out a window." Matril rubbed the back of his neck. "A third-floor window. I got really lucky on the landing, and got the hell out of Ostwick."

"And then you decided to use his brother's name as your alias?" Cassandra gave him a disbelieving look.

"He threw me out a window."

"Well, let's be fair now." Brehan shrugged as he entered. "Who hasn't thought about throwing you out a window?"

"Where is he now?" Cassandra asked.

"Iron Bull found the right tavern before I did."

"And?"

"They got a room. In the interest of preserving my fragile remnants of sanity, I decided not to pursue the investigation any further tonight." Brehan shrugged. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go drink away the mental images."

"Lukas and..." Matril stared. "There is absolutely no way that is going to end well."


	15. Chapter 15

"Cole?" The spirit peered out from behind the bookcase. Matril sighed. "Come out from there, please." Slowly, Cole crept out from his hiding place, his huge eyes watching Matril cautiously. Matril rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

"It's not a demon but it is." Cole fidgeted. "Wrath and rage and ruin. Revenge."

"I'm sorry, Cole." He repeated the words, then sighed. "There are places in my head you shouldn't go."

"I want to help." Cole crept a little closer. "It hurts you so much when you remember its also you. Why won't you let me help you..." Cole's eyes widened. "You need to remember it so you don't become it."

"Just as you need to help people so you don't become angry." He smiled. "You do help me Cole. More than I think you know."

"If I can't lie to him how can I lie to me?" Cole nodded. "Can't run if he follows." He looked up at Matril. "When she called you her son, she meant the word."

For a long moment, Matril just stared at him. Then he took a deep breath. "Thank you." He wiped at his eyes, then patted Cole's shoulder. "I got you some new boots. They have buckles instead of laces."

Cole's eyes lit up. "They're shiny. Like Dorian."

Matril laughed. "Yes Cole, like Dorian."

#

Dorian chuckled to himself as he watched Matril move among the nobility of Orlais. A small smile here, a whispered word there, and the Winter Palace was entirely at his mercy. It was like watching an artist at work. Josephine moved in behind, securing favors and alliances, while Leliana danced in the shadows, reeling in the victims Matril adroitly baited. "Give the man credit." He saw Bann Lukas standing nearby, a drink in his hand. "A few more hours, they'll be crowning him emperor."

"I did not get the chance to thank you, earlier." Dorian nodded. "I..."

"He'll use you." Lukas gave him a surprisingly sympathetic look. "It's what he does."

"I fail to see how that is any of your concern." Dorian narrowed his eyes.

"Saw how you look at him." Lukas shrugged. "I fell down that hole myself." He shook his head. "Worst part is I can't even hate him for it. I knew what he was from the beginning." His laughter was tinged with bitterness. "Thought I could make an honest man out of him."

"Were you..."

"In love with the bastard?" Lukas shrugged. "People don't piss you off that much unless you care."

"The bitter and bloody truth." Dorian sighed. He hesitated a moment. "For the record, he does seem to have quite a grudge against you."

"Good to know." Lukas smiled. He started to move away and rejoin the festivities, then stopped and walked back to Dorian. "Lord Pavus..."

"Yes?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"I wish you luck. And if the asshole does end up breaking your heart..." He gave Dorian an appreciative look. "Come visit the Marches. I'll show you around Ostwick." He winked. "Bring Cassandra with you."

He laughed. "I may repeat that offer to her, just to see the look on her face."

#

Matril nodded to Leliana. "And how are you acquainted with this..." He lifted an eyebrow. "The Blight?"

She nodded. "Indeed. Be wary. She is ruthless, and capable of anything."

"So noted." He glanced around the room. "Baroness Nalina is wearing someone else's dress tonight. It had to be taken in a bit for her."

"Hmmm..." Leliana glanced in that direction. "It is quite the fashionable piece, with pearls." She nodded to Matril. "Yet the gentleman attending her is a mere chevalier." Her eyes narrowed. "His belt."

"Tevinter knots." Matril kept his smile light. "Tell Brehan to watch him watch us, perhaps he'll mark a few others."

#

"This is all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners." Dorian gazed around the garden area.

"Your manners remain impeccable as always, Lord Pavus." Matril smiled.

"You lie beautifully." Dorian chuckled.

"Have you seen anything I should know about?" Matril's own gaze swept the area.

"I'm trying to keep watch for magic. You know Tevinters. We can't cross a room without casting a spell." Dorian shrugged. "If there are Tevinter agents here, we'll find them."

"Don't wear yourself out mingling." Matril leaned toward him just a little. "I expect a dance before this is over."

Dorian blinked. A dance? Before all Orlais? That was... Well that was just... It was... "Dancing with the evil magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking."

"They'll live." Matril grinned.

"You say that now." He kept his voice light. "If you can find me ten silk scarves, I've got a dance that will really shock them."

"Do you now?" Matril lifted an eyebrow.

#

"Leliana."

"Yes, Inquisitor?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It is possible I have missed something in current events..." He frowned. "But why is the Marquis of Serault present?"

"A very good question." Leliana nodded. "I will see if I cannot find the answer."

"Has Brehan gotten anything more from Briala?" He caught a slight frown from her. She'd been more than a little upset at having missed Brehan's association with the elven 'ambassador'.

"She wants leverage. Brehan believes she will make an attempt to contact you directly at some point in the evening."

"I have missed this." He turned to look at the nobles moving around.

"The Great Game." She gazed about the room.

"A duel of words, where a smile can be more lethal than a blade." He straightened. "Do you want the comte or the baroness?"

"Let us play to our strengths." Her smile was catlike. "I'll take the baroness."

"Always nice to work with professionals."

#

"Two."

Dorian blinked, then raised an eyebrow at Matril. "Too...?"

"I've acquired two silk scarves thus far." Matril didn't look at him. "Oh, look. The empress's handmaidens. Excuse me." He walked away.

He took a deep breath. "This may have been a bad idea."

#

"We are fighting people dressed as clowns through the winter palace." Dorian sent a lightning bolt at one said clown.

"Ah..." Next to him, Matril fired an arrow that pinned the clown to the wall. "I missed Orlais."

"Did you ever dress like that?" He glanced at Matril.

"Which answer would you prefer?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"The truth." Dorian chuckled.

"Of course not." Matril fired another arrow. "I made it look good."

"I am going to need to see proof of that claim later."

"A pitched battle really isn't the best place to be discussing fashion." Cassandra glared at them.

"I like the ribbons." Cole stabbed one of the venatori. "Can I have ribbons?"

"You know, I can think of several advantages to putting bells on him." Matril fired another arrow."

"Fine, but I get to pick the colors." Dorian shook his head. "You are entirely too fond of blue."

"It suits him."

"It makes him look green!"

"White washes him out entirely."

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra smashed her shield into a venatori, slamming the man up against the wall to bounce off and land unmoving.

"Cole, we'll discuss it when we get back to Skyhold." Matril put an arrow in the venatori attempting to attack Cassandra from behind.

"And feathers." Cole smiled. "But only three silk scarves."

Dorian's spell fizzled. He coughed, and quickly gathered new energy to his hand. From the grin on Matril's face, the infernal man had noticed.

#

"Fancy meeting you here." Briala stepped over the corpse. She gave him an appraising look. "So you're Inquisitor Trevelyan? I'm surprised they got you sobered up and dressed for this party."

"Ambassador Briala." Matril bowed. "When the bedchamber was empty I was worried we'd missed our rendezvous."

She looked around at the corpses. "Your reputation for getting results is well deserved." She stared walking toward the balcony. He followed. "You cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it. So..." She jerked her head in the direction of the corpse by the fountain. "The Council of Heralds' emissary in the courtyard..." She turned to face him. "That's not your work, is it?"

"Hardly. I was about to ask you the same." He shrugged. "It is a rather unsubtle move."

"You may have arrived with the grand duke, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work." She looked him over. "I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? She folded her arms. "Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight."

That last bit was true, but she was coming on far too strong. Her own position was nowhere near as secure as she needed. Without Gaspard and Celene at each other's throats she lost any advantage she had. No, the knife wasn't hers. The last thing she needed was Celene to be able to take down Gaspard. And vice versa. "The empress needs to know what is going on."

"You can try to warn her." Briala shrugged. "She won't believe anything from me." She lowered her hands. "I misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it."

"An intriguing idea." He nodded. "Though one must wonder what manner of coin would be expected in payment."

"I know which way the wind is blowing. You'll be part of the peace talks before the night is over." She shrugged. "And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It..." She smiled. "Could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought."

Matril watched her leap down from the balcony and vanish. He smiled. "Inquisitor?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him.

"If that woman were as good as she thinks she is, there wouldn't have been a civil war in the first place. Let's go find our real threat." He stepped over a corpse and headed back toward the party.

#

"Five."

Dorian blinked. "Five?"

"I rather expected the empress to have a more interesting undergarment drawer." Matril shook his head.

He lowered his voice to a hiss. "You checked the empress's undergarment drawer?"

"Dorian..." Matril stared at him. "I check everyone's undergarment drawer." He leaned a little closer. "Please tell me you're wearing the blue ones tonight."

"Well that's..." Dorian sputtered a little, then glared. "There will be payback for that later."

"Promises." Matril chuckled before heading back into the crowd.

#

Dorian smiled at where Matril was dancing with the Duchess Florianne. The man moved gracefully. Though the fact that he could dance really shouldn't come as a surprise. He was starting to think nothing about the man would. Part of him wondered if Matril could win over his father.

He caught a glimpse of Bann Trevelyan out of the corner of his eye. The man was handsome, dashing, and one of the more powerful men in the Free Marches. Dorian shook his head, trying to drive the concern away. Matril had been a different man then, hadn't he?

That was half the problem. Matril had been so many different men. He saw the dance coming to an end, and began making his way through the crowd. They had enough to worry about at the moment.

#

He walked through away from the empress, tucking the locket back into his tunic. Matril looked up to see Lukas watching him. He took a deep breath before approaching the man. "You do not seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Cassandra refused my request for a dance." Lukas shrugged. "And made it clear if I persisted, I would be stabbed."

"You hate this sort of gathering." Matril frowned. "I recall what it took to get you to attend the Winner's Feast."

Lukas smiled briefly before returning to his glower. "Your general needed a way to get more of his people into the palace. He added them to my retinue." He swirled the liquid in his cup before putting it to his lips. "He won't dance with me either."

Matril noted the amount of wine in the glass remained the same when he lowered it again. Lukas never actually drank when he was expecting genuine violence to ensue. "I know it is several years too late to matter, but..." He sighed. "But I am sorry."

"You can make it up to me by saving the world." Lukas took a deep breath. "Did you talk to Ruya, at the Conclave?"

"I had a concern that if she recognized me, I would have ended up on fire." He hesitated. "I saw her, though. She was playing chess with a Dalish woman, with your Uncle Gavren looking over her."

A genuine smile came to Lukas's face. "Then they had some time together, before the end." His voice was slightly thick. "That is..." He took a deep breath. "Good to know." He shook his head. "Isn't there something rather important you should be doing now?"

He bowed, and headed back into the fray.

#

Matril watched the elven woman scamper out the door. "So Briala and the Empress were sleeping together." He shrugged. "Gaspard was onto something with that play." He frowned. "I imagine Brehan will not be too pleased with the news."

Dorian frowned. "Most Orlesians would say that's Celene's scandal, not Briala's."

"Celene dallying with a servant is approximately the same level of news as wearing the wrong hat at a soiree. Scandalous and cause for ridicule..." Matril shook his head. "But not the kind of thing that topples an empire." He frowned. "Being the reason Gaspard was able to manipulate Celene into burning Halamshiral, however..." He shook his head. "To many of those who follow her would have cause to take that personally. That secret started a war, Dorian." He looked around the room. "Now let's go find a secret that can end one." He shrugged as they started walking out. "Six."

#

Dorian didn't miss the brief shadowed look on Matril's face when he picked the lock. He quickly found the hapless soldier a pair of pants, as Cassandra was too busy looking anywhere else and Cole was staring wide-eyed at Matril. Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "I don't know which is worse: Celene for using such a tactic or him for falling for it."

"That's not the kind of honey I put in wine." Cole's eyes were wide.

"For which we are all..." Matril's face went from blank to trying very hard not to laugh. Dorian felt briefly like hugging Cole. "Exceedingly grateful."

"Oh." Cole nodded. "You're welcome." He looked up at Dorian and smiled.

"Dorian."

He glanced at Matril. The man smiled. "Eight."

#

"You're such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you'd taken my bait." Duchess Florianne stared down at him from the ledge.

Underestimating her was a mistake, but so was overestimating her. The woman was a trained bard, after all. Matril bowed, adding a bit of a flourish. "I found after those mincing steps I needed to stretch my legs."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of your meddling." She waved a hand. "Corypheus insisted that the empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him."

"After so long in your company, I imagine disappointment would come as no surprise." The rift was there. He began focusing on the mark.

"Poor dear. You can't begin to imagine what Calpernia and I have in store."

"Just please tell me it isn't an attempt to bring insect patterns back into fashion because, darling..." He raised an eyebrow. "Moths?"

"It's a butterfly." She glared.

"In those drab shades?" He gave her a surprised look.

She started to reply, and caught herself. "In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike." She smirked. "A pity you'll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They'll be talking of it for years."

"I am impressed, just a little." He shrugged. "I mean the nerve it must have taken to wear those shoes in front of all those eyes. I mean, I've fought dragons, and I wouldn't have tried..." He tilted his head. "I'm not even sure where you were trying to go with those buckles, honestly."

"They are..." She clenched her fists, then started to stalk away. "Kill him. And bring me the marked hand."

Her minions fired arrows. He threw himself to the side and tore open the rift.

#

"I think you may have gone a bit far there, personally." Dorian brushed himself off. "I mean, if you looked at the trim it was clearly butterflies"

"You think so?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps you should consider apologizing." Dorian nodded.

Matril shook his head. "The woman put little red bows on her sleeves, Dorian. I mean..." Cassandra made disgusted noise. "Also she is trying to empower an ancient darkspawn magister by assassinating the empress of Orlais, and ordered her minions to kill me."

"And you did have a point about her shoes." Dorian shrugged, then gestured. "The man tied to the pole is glaring at us."

"But you said moths eat clothes." Cole frowned.

#

"Thank the Maker you're back. The empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?" Cullen headed toward him, with Lukas a pace behind.

"Wait here." Matril nodded to him. "I'm going to have a word with the grand duchess."

"What?" Cullen shook his head. "There's no time. The empress will begin her speech any moment."

Matril started walking.

#

"We owe the court one more show, Your Grace."

Florianne went still at the sound of Matril's voice. Slowly, she turned around. "Inquisitor."

"I'm giving you a chance to end this peacefully." He walked up the stairs toward her. "There's no need for more death. Corypheus is only using you."

She backed away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've already forgotten trying to kill me in the garden just a moment ago?" He clasped his hands behind his back. "You arranged for your brother to be at the ball so everyone would be watching him while you carried out your plan. So when the council emissary stumbled into the wrong room and found your assassins, you could pin the blame on Gaspard."

Behind him, Gaspard started glaring at his sister. He almost felt bad for the man. Matril continued. "The empress, your brother, and the entire court all here as your guests. A tempting target for Corypheus."

"This is very entertaining." She tried to reclaim her dignity. "But you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?"

Celene's voice rang out. "That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin."

Florianne turned to her brother. "Gaspard? You cannot believe this. You know I would never..." He glared at her again before turning and walking away. "Gaspard?"

"Cheer up, Your Grace." Matril smiled. "At least you wore the right shoes for this occasion." He waited until the guards had dragged the sobbing duchess away before looking up. "Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak in private."

#

The bickering began as soon as Celene, Gaspard, and Briala were all on the balcony. Well, this should be fun. "Every one of you is implicated. You all conspired to allow this to happen."

"That is a bold claim, Inquisitor." Celene glared at him. "Are you prepared to defend it?"

It was her signature on the document that had ordered Margot's execution. For a moment, it felt like the countess was there on the balcony with him. "You allowed the grand duke to sneak soldiers in, hoping he'd make a politically foolish move."

"That's duplicitous even for you, Celene." Gaspard looked amused. It had been he that had maneuvered the count into his foolish move.

"You took the bait. I met your mercenary captain, Your Grace. He says you were ready to attack tonight."

"Clever move, if you were trying to get hanged for treason." Briala smirked. And frankly, she was just a bitch.

"And Briala was playing both of you. She murdered your ambassadors and sent you each forged letters."

"Even if I did, you can't touch me." She glared.

"No one will defend you once it's revealed that you and Celene were loves when she burned Halamshiral's alienage."

"You made your point." Celene's voice was surprisingly blunt. "What do you want?"

"I beat you all at your Great Game." Margot's Mouse smiled. "You work for me now."

#

Dorian watched the 'occult adviser' leave the balcony, then walked out to where Matril was standing. "There was an ancient dowager looking for you. Said she had twelve daughters. I told her you'd left already." He leaned on the balcony next to the other man. "You can thank me later. Or now. But you look lost in thought. Something on your mind?"

Matril stared out over the view for a moment, and then laughed. "Things went according to plan for once." He turned toward Dorian. "I couldn't be happier."

"It was a nice - if shocking - change of pace." Dorian shrugged. "You should be celebrating. Enjoy yourself while you can." He considered a moment, then found the nerve. "What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing." He bowed, adding even more flourish than usual. "Let's dance."

"I was hoping you'd ask." Matril took his hand.

"Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative." Dorian grinned as he began to lead Matril through the movements. This was...

Strangely perfect.

Then the infernal man leaned closer, and whispered in his ear. "Ten."


	16. Chapter 16

"You looked surprised."

"I am." Dorian sat on the sofa, reclining lazily as he watched Matril take the kettle from the fire. When had the Inquisitor begun making him tea? Come to think of it, how did the man even know his favorite tea? Another curious little puzzle, but at the moment he had a different one. "For over a year you've been building alliances, sticking your finger into every pie that comes along. The Qunari offer you something no other leader in Thedas has ever had and you..."

"The price was too high." Matril set the tea tray down.

"I do agree with you, Amatus. Though I admit to some bias where the Qunari are concerned." Dorian shrugged. "It is nice that some surprises about you are pleasant ones."

"If it's all the same, Dorian..." Matril's eyes narrowed. "I think I would prefer you return to your own quarters this evening."

"Matril..."

"Dorian just go." He rose and walked over to his desk, turning his back toward Dorian as he began leafing through parchment.

He looked down at the tea tray. A careless jest and... The man didn't fight or argue. He knew Matril was capable of both, had seen him do both. And yet within the confines of their relationship, Matril's passion seemed reserved for the bed alone. Normally it was pleasant enough not having to pick out stingers after a meal but tonight it bothered him. Most of the time, Matril simply let him have his way or, or this. "Matril."

"I have things to do."

"And one of them is having this discussion."

"Is there a reason you're attempting to pick a fight with me, Dorian?" Matril turned.

"Is that what I'm..." Dorian blinked. "Alright, that does appear to be what I am doing so I assume the answer to your question is yes."

"Alright, Dorian." Matril turned. "You want to discuss, discuss."

"I..." He stared across at a blank expression, then shifted a moment. "I'd feel a little more comfortable if I was certain of who I was speaking to at the moment."

"You are speaking to me." Matril never changed expression.

"That does not exactly narrow things down." Dorian sighed. "Perhaps you're right. I should go."

He made it half way down the stairs before shaking his head and turning around. Matril was staring at the fire. Dorian took a deep breath. "I apologize." He walked toward Matril. "You did something noble today, and it was wrong of me to snipe at you for it."

"It wasn't about the Chargers. Not entirely, anyway." Matril didn't turn from the fire. "They don't have names."

"Amatus?"

"The Qunari. They don't have names. Just titles, or nicknames they give each other. The most basic part of what makes a person is denied to them, or stripped from them. And if they object, refuse to accept their role, they are taken away and re-educated, their minds carefully broken down and reformed into what is desired, or destroyed entirely. They don't have names, Dorian." He turned then. "When they conquer a new area, they tear apart families, taking away the children to be educated by the tamassrans. They never..." He shrugged. "They never have a choice." He sighed. "They are simply forced to fit a mold and it's wrong."

Dorian put his hand around the back of Matril's neck, and drew the other man to him for a kiss. "This man, the one I am speaking to now..." He kissed Matril again. "I find I like him a great deal." He met Matril's eyes. "And I think we both should get to know him a little better."

#

"What is his relation to Cyril Mornay?"

Leliana blinked as Matril walked toward her. "As I asked the runner to say, I'm not certain -"

"Leliana..." Matril shook his head. "Do you at least know his real name?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, then she shook her head. "Then you know?"

"Please." Matril rolled his eyes. "I used to sleep with Lukas Trevelyan. I am absolutely certain no one named Gordon Blackwall has ever won a Grand Melee."

"You could have said something." Leliana folded her arms.

"Why?" Matril shrugged. "You already knew and if he was a threat you'd already have eliminated him. He..." Matril nodded at Brehan. "Would have informed you upon his arrival if you didn't already know." He folded his arms. "Or do you intend to actually insult my intelligence by expecting me to believe one Warden-Constable could completely fail to recognize another?"

"I have some suspicions. Once Brehan confirmed them I began making inquiries." Leliana gestured for him to follow her to the desk. "However, given..." She sighed. "Given other concerns and his clear loyalty to our cause, I failed to follow up on the information I located. I apologize, Inquisitor."

"I'll head to Val Royeaux. I expect to find a full report waiting for me upon my arrival." Matril nodded to her. "What do you know?"

"He's not a Warden at all." Brehan shook his head.

"Then you go work with Josephine. Rewrite history a little so that it states use of the treaties was on your authority." Matril nodded to him. "Then if anyone continues to object, remind them of things like that a hole getting punched in the sky, the darkspawn magister from the dawn of time, and that pesky little archdemon fellow flitting around." He shrugged. "Then tell them to bite us. I'm sure Josephine can come up with some suitably polite and friendly way to phrase that."

#

"I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death." The man in the cell didn't look up at him. "He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man, the man he was, wouldn't have let another die in his place."

"And you think your death will make up for what you did?"

"Isn't it a start?" It took a few moments, but the man in the cell eventually turned to look at him. "Why are you here?"

"I needed you to know you aren't alone in this."

"Don't you understand? I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing." He shook his head. "When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man."

"You think I don't understand?" Matril glared at him. "Do you even know why Chapuis thought he could move against Callier?" He shook his head. "How he knew where Callier would be?" He put his hands on the bars of the cell. "Because I told him. I baited him. Two birds with one stone. Callier dead, Chapuis disgraced. Two names crossed off, and I never considered who would have to deal with the aftermath." He shook his head at Rainier. "I fitted you to my string and fired without a second thought."

"You..." Rainier stared back at him.

"They took everything from her, and she died because of it." Matril pushed himself off the bars of the cell. "They killed my mother, and for that..." He looked down at his hands. "For that it seems I started a war." He looked up at Rainier. "And now we must both atone for what I did."

#

"What of Rainier?" Brehan raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I can conscript him for real."

"Won't be necessary." Matril shook his head. "In light of his service to the Inquisition, and in a show of solidarity to demonstrate that the past is being put behind them, Celene has agreed to pardon Rainier and his men for their crime."

"And what did that cost the Inquisition?" Cassandra looked furious.

"The Inquisition?" Matril shook his head. "Nothing. Someone, however, may have provided a location of a carta cache of stolen relics to the University of Orlais, and I seem to have caught Celene at an opportune time."

"What manner of stolen relics?" Leliana folded her arms.

"Leliana, what makes you think I have any idea?" Matril gave her an innocent look.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you a Marcher or Orlesian?"

He thickened his voice to a Ferelden accent. "What makes you so certain I'm not from the Anderfels?"

"I will find out."

"Well, at least we've mostly ruled out the possibility of him being Dalish." Brehan shrugged.

#

Dorian lay with almost a third of his body hanging off the bed, trying to catch his breath. Matril sat up, looking down at him. "Does this mean I win?"

He managed a glare. "Alright, fine." It took some effort, but he sat up and got himself into a slightly more dignified position. "Something about me, hmm..."

A voice seemed to come out of nowhere. "I think I did it wrong."

Matril winced. "Cole, I am fairly sure I explained the concept of knocking."

Cole walked over, holding his arms out. Somehow, he had managed to lace his vambraces in a way that connected the two of them together. Dorian stared. "How..."

"Did you manage that?" Matril finished the statement.

"I was feeding the chickens." Cole gave them a woebegone look. He tilted his head. "Can I wear just my hat?"

"No, no..." Matril shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"But you and Dorian aren't wearing clothes."

"I'll just..." Dorian reached for his robes.

"Oh no you don't." Matril shook his head as he started fixing Cole's vambraces. "You're staying right there and paying your forfeit."

"You're happier now, Dorian." Cole turned his eyes toward him.

"Is that what that light, tingly feeling is?" Dorian shrugged. "I suppose you're right."

"Wishing but wondering, wounded and wistful. What if he doesn't want me after?"

Dorian stared at the man fixing the spirit's vambraces. He smiled. "But he did."

"Now you're smiling." Cole's eyes lit up. "It's good."

"There." Matril finished. "Now, what did I say about knocking?"

"Wait until you say to come." Cole nodded. "And you did."

"I..." Matril winced. "Wasn't talking to you." Dorian felt himself start to turn bright red.

"Oh." Cole frowned. "Sorry."

#

"Solas, how is it you were not surprised to learn of the existence of eluvians?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"They are artifacts of the Fade, Inquisitor. Naturally I have seen such things in my wanderings." Solas looked up from where he was adding finishing touches to a mural.

"In your wanderings within the Fade?"

"The world is reflected within the Fade. You have witnessed this yourself, Inquisitor, when we walked through Haven." Solas turned to face him.

"Could it work? This plan?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"It would seem within the realm of possibility. An artifact like the one Corypheus already possesses could be used for many purposes." Solas nodded.

Matril sighed. "I was really hoping for a flat 'no, absolutely not, it's the mere delusions of a madman'."

"When dealing with a madman of such power, Inquisitor, it would be best to dismiss nothing as mere delusion."

He started to walk away, then frowned and turned back. "Solas, if you have a moment, I would like to ask your advice on a matter."

Solas put down his paintbrush, and then nodded. "Walk with me?"

They headed out to the ramparts, and looked down at the view below. Matril noted Leliana had sent more runners out. "How do you return?"

"Inquisitor?"

"You wear masks, layer upon layer..." Matril turned to face him. "And yet you never lose track of who you are beneath them. How?"

"A good question, Inquisitor." Solas slowly nodded. "The only answer, perhaps, that I can give is that we wear our masks for different reasons."

"And crafted them for different purposes." He sighed. "Is your name really Solas?"

"Would it surprise you to learn the answer is yes?" Solas gave him a small smile.

"You call yourself Pride. What did others call you?"

"What name were you given at your birth, Inquisitor?" Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Fair point." Matril shook his head. "You're going to leave, aren't you?"

"Pardon?"

"Once this is done, and Corypheus is dead." Matril leaned on the rampart. "Vanish mysteriously back to the shadows from whence you came. I like it, it has mythos." He nodded. "I'll make sure you have some sort of token or something you can show the templars, to make sure they don't bother you."

"What makes you think I intend to leave?" Solas clasped his hands behind his back.

"An elven man I used to travel with had this elven saying he was fond of. I'll just mangle the pronunciation, but it translated to 'never try tricking the Dread Wolf'." Matril shrugged. "You laid the groundwork for your eventual disappearance upon your arrival. No last name. No real background given. And you wear masks." He shrugged again. "Do me a favor, and say goodbye before you go?"

"I will try, Inquisitor."

He started to turn away, and then turned back. "One more thing."

"What is that?"

"Someone may need to explain some things to Cole, and I feel you are the best suited for such a task."

"And what things would those be?" Solas blinked.

Matril winced. "Not all forms of moaning require medical attention." He shook his head. "And for the love of all things holy stop picking the lock on my door."

"Ah." Amusement was evident on Solas's face. "Dorian made a similar request earlier." Solas shrugged. "Though when I did speak to Cole, there was a point I was confused on myself." He arched an eyebrow. "What, precisely, is a Rivaini -"

"And I'm done talking to you." Matril turned and walked away.

#

"You do have a gift for shadows and blades." Leliana nodded to Matril.

"When you put it that way, it makes it sound so elegant." Matril smiled.

"It does, doesn't it?" Leliana shrugged. "Mysterious, even romantic. Pretending it's something else sometimes makes it easier. As your spymaster, may I say that I am pleased?"

"Well, that's something of a change." Matril raised an eyebrow.

"My agents appreciate that they can look at their Herald and see themselves." She smiled. "Have I ever talked about my friend, Zevran? He was an Antivan Crow. He wasn't always good at it. We only met because he failed to kill a mark. But he made me laugh."


	17. Chapter 17

Kneeling in the center of some kind of enchanted field was a man dressed in Tevinter style robes. "The light. Light the..." The man spoke as they approached. "The burner. Add a teaspoon of cinnabar..." The man continued speaking, reciting as they came closer.

"Look at that containment spell -" Dorian was staring. "It would hold a dozen pride demons."

"What is this? Who are you?" Matril frowned.

"Magister Erasthenes am I. A scholar of Tevinter. To Corypheus I am bound, to answer every question - Gaah." The man cried out in pain, then made a sobbing sound. "For Calpernia's sake, I am lost."

"I need information. You'd like to be free." Matril squared his shoulders. "We could negotiate."

"Oh. To be freed - you see what he has made of me?" The man stared up at him. "I was the greatest scholar of the Old Gods in Minrathous - no, in the Imperium. One night, he came to my door. For my relics, I thought. My writings and runes..." The man coughed. "But instead, my slave went to his side. Calpernia. To become the Vessel, and save Tevinter."

Matril questioned the man further, gleaning what information he could. Corypheus did not intend a kind fate for Calpernia. Trapped in a cage, stripped of free will... He was surprised to find himself feeling some sympathy for his enemy. It was not a fate he could wish on anyone. "Power without free will. That's her role as the Vessel."

"Yoked like a Qunari mage, a saarebas, a circumscribed sycophant." The man made a wheezing sound. "This chain has broken me, friend. No wings can raise my mind. Please. Breach the circle - its wards will trigger. I will be dust and light. Free."

"Or it will kill us." Cassandra frowned. "Corypheus is not above placing such a trap."

"Corypheus's circle will hold its destruction within, tight, tight." The magister looked up at them. "No fear. Only freedom."

It was foolish. The resource this man's information could be for them was boggling. And yet... To condemn a man to this, to slavery was... Matril shook his head. "You've suffered enough."

"Light a lamp, would you, Calpernia? Everything's so dark."

Matril used an arrow to breach the barrier, and watched as the magister's body faded away to dust.

#

"The reports from our agents at the shrine are intriguing." Leliana turned to face him. "You were correct: once Calpernia becomes the Vessel, she will lose her freedom." She gave him an annoyed look. "Forgive me, but I wish you hadn't been so quick to throw the enspelled magister away."

Matril shook his head. "Erasthenes was suffering. He'd already told me everything."

"We can never be certain now." She frowned.

"I will not keep a slave, Leliana." Matril folded his arms. "Andraste fought for freedom."

"I..." Leliana nodded. "Yes. She did."

#

Dorian collapsed back onto the bed, panting. "Quick, did I set anything on fire?"

"No..." Matril frowned. "Not fire..."

He looked up to see a wall of ice barricading the stairs, then gave Matril an apologetic look. "I had this panicked thought for a moment that someone was going to walk in and..."

"How long do you think it will take before it melts?" Matril stared at it.

"I, uh..." Dorian frowned as he stood up to get a better look. "I'm not sure, exactly. I wasn't paying a lot of attention when I put it up."

"And how, precisely, am I going to explain a waterfall and the puddle to..." Matril twitched a shoulder. "Anyone?"

"Lie." Dorian shrugged.

"Probably a wise idea." Matril nodded. "Well, since we aren't going anywhere for a while..." He gave Dorian an evil smile.

"Amatus?"

"I've seen fire, and now ice..." He tilted his head. "What would it take to get lightning?" Dorian's eyes widened as Matril pushed him back onto the bed. "Let's find out."

#

Matril handed one of the bottles to Leliana, then sat down next to her. "Marjolaine never returned from Ferelden."

"I do not suppose you know what became of her?" Leliana glanced at the bottle before taking a drink.

"Not a clue."

"I have a small yet cherished hope she was eaten by an ogre." Leliana nodded. She looked down at the box she'd brought out of the Chantry. "The Divine has a long reach, but it is always her Left Hand that stretches out. A thousand lies. A thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences."

"She apologized in the Fade. She said she failed you." Matril shrugged. "This is what she meant."

"All this time, Justinia carried the fear that she was using me, just like I'd been used in the past." She glanced at Matril. "But Marjolaine's games were trifles. Justinia gambled with the fate of nations. She needed me. No one else could've done what I did..." She glanced at him. "Except you, perhaps."

He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Then perhaps it's time we let them go." He shrugged. "Whatever debts we owed them were repaid long ago."

"This?" She stared at him. "Now? After everything you've said and done?"

"Yes, Leliana. After everything I've said and done. Letting Natalie go was the right thing to do. It proves..." He shook his head.

"Proves what?" She glared.

"That we are more than what they made us." He met her eyes. "All that we have sacrificed to get here and..." His laughter was bitter. "They tried to save us. I know it is not in our nature, Leliana, but let's be honest." He rose. "Do we really need saving?" Matril offered her a hand. "I am the Inquisitor. And you, you could be the next Divine."

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "Well, Mouse..." Her smile was fierce. "There is work yet to be done."

"After you, Nightingale." He nodded.

#

Something had changed. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but something had definitely changed since Matril had returned from his brief trip with the spymaster. "Anything you wish to share, Amatus?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"Bridget and I once stole a ship."

Dorian blinked. "What?"

"It was full of ale, and we couldn't exactly sail it with just the two of us, so we went into West Hill's alienage and offered three barrels of ale each as payment. With our newly acquired elven crew, we smuggled a load of stolen dwarven relics into Antiva City." Matril shrugged. "Bridget spent that entire trip seasick and refused to get back on the ship for the journey back to Ferelden. So we gave the ship to the elves who had turned out to be decent enough pirates, and headed back overland. We went into Nevarra, where we attempted to arrange the disgrace of a local lord by framing him for smuggling mummies to weird Orlesian collectors. We stole a mummy, hid it in his bedchamber, and then tipped off the guards. Only it backfired just slightly because when they found the local lord, he was stark naked, laying on his bed, with the mummy strangling him. The guards were so shocked at what they were seeing they failed to save him. Since the plan had been for us to blackmail the lord by promising to arrange the dropping of the charges in return for his cooperation, we had to go to plan B, which involved me spending the better part of two weeks playing the role of 'Mother Florence'."

For a long moment, he just stared at Matril. A smile played around the edges of Matril's mouth. Dorian swallowed. "'Mother' Florence?"

"Bridget was too short to pull it off." Matril shrugged. "The truly entertaining part was I got to take confessions. Later on, we reworked that plan specifically for that purpose."

"Is any of that true?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"Every word."

"That's..." Dorian started laughing. "Oh sweet Maker. Cassandra will kill you." It took him a few moments to get himself back under control. "I think I would have liked this Bridget of yours."

Matril shrugged. "I was working on a plan, when I came to the Conclave. The only way I would be safe was if Tan was gone, but simply killing him wouldn't be enough. His lieutenants would have immediately moved to eliminate Bridget, and that was a risk I couldn't take. I needed to kill him, but I needed to do it in a way that she could take over his section of the Carta. I was close to pulling it off. I just needed some muscle for the last part." He leaned on the desk. "Then I woke up and he was dead." He swallowed. "And so was..." He bowed his head. "So was..."

Dorian stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Matril as he wept.

#

"It's time to plan our next attack. What's the state of the Inquisition?" Matril looked at his advisers.

"Our alliance with Orlais holds. For the present." Josephine nodded. "They'll send aid on request."

"And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of demons." Cullen rested his hands on his sword hilt. "With Orlais's support..."

#

He looked around the strange place Morrigan had brought him too. Nothing about their surroundings was natural. "Corypheus wants to come..." Matril had chills just from standing there. "Here?"

"This..." Morrigan gestured. "Is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers..."

"And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor." Matril nodded.

#

"Any word on whether news of the ritual has reached Calpernia's ears?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"There is no way to be certain, Inquisitor." Leliana straightened. Then she gestured to the balcony. "Walk with me." He followed. She leaned on the rampart, looking down. "Tell me..." She glanced at him. "Churneau."

"Killing a man is a momentary satisfaction, and a setback most Orlesians can work around. Turn the right man, however..." Matril shrugged. "And you can make your enemies destroy themselves."

"When we are ruthless, it gets us where we need to be. It's something to be proud of. Why fix it?" Leliana folded her arms.

"Do you think Corypheus considers himself the villain?" Matril raised an eyebrow at her. "We do what we must, Leliana. But if we wish to avoid becoming what he is, we must count the costs." He nodded at where Brehan was standing near the tavern, talking to Harding. "And it's not always clear who pays those costs."

"I..." Leliana sighed. "Some things cannot be fixed."

"Indulge me." He met her eyes. "Try."

"Why do you care?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Dorian has me doing this 'find who you really are' thing. Turns out I'm something of a hopeless romantic." Matril shrugged, then smiled. "I think it sort of comes with the territory of being a bard. I once sang the love song you wrote for him in a village near Val Chevin. There was not a dry eye in the square." He started for the door, then turned back toward her. "Love is the Maker's greatest gift, Leliana."

"Don't try to charm me, Mouse." She smiled back at him.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Nightingale."

"I will learn who you really are." She nodded to him.

"I'll give you a hint." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I am not secretly King Alistair's long lost brother."

"That..." Leliana laughed softly. "Is going to severely disappoint Charter. She had thirty gold riding on you being exactly that."

#

"You're scared." Cole's voice said.

Matril smiled at the spirit. "I'm leading an army into a dangerous forest to fight a primordial foe and his pet dragon." He shrugged. "I think it would be far more worrisome if I wasn't scared." He looked over to see Dorian engaged in conversation with Solas. The two of them were incredibly excited about some magical emanation or another.

"Glittering to gloss a hidden hurt. Unlearning not to hope for more. Stumbling steps where the wall used to be." Cole tilted his head.

"Are you talking about me or Dorian?"

"Yes." Cole frowned. "You want it, but it scares you more than the dragon does."

"The worse a dragon could do is kill me." He pulled the brim of Cole's hat down. "Dorian could break my heart."

"That's good." Cole fixed his hat, and smiled at Matril. "It means you have one, whole and hoping."

"I..." Matril laughed softly. "I suppose it does."


	18. Chapter 18

Dorian smiled as he watched Matril talking to the Empress of Orlais. Odd how such a notion had ceased being strange. He was playing the role of Inquisitor to the hilt today, stopping to speak to the soldiers. A kind word, a smile, a touch of inspiration. Giving them exactly what they needed. They stepped livelier where he passed.

"He does this well."

"Ah, Solas." He smiled. "You startled me. You're always so..." He shrugged. "Nondescript."

Solas put a hand to his ear. "Please speak up. I cannot hear you over your outfit."

#

He left Ser Michel to guard Josephine, then returned to where some of his companions had gathered. "Alright then, who wishes to accompany me into the dark forest of no return?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Cassandra rolled her eyes before starting forward.

Blackwall nodded, and followed after Cassandra.

Dorian, however, leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss before shoving him after the two warriors.

#

The templars were standing strong and fighting well. Matril frowned as he knelt to look at one of the bodies. "Elves?"

"It would appear that way." Blackwall nodded.

"Perhaps I should have brought Solas." He rose. "Come. The sooner we reach the temple the fewer lives will be lost."

#

"Alright..." Matril turned toward his companions. He met Dorian's eyes before focusing his gaze on Morrigan. "Anyone care to explain what just happened?" He took a deep breath. "Because as near as I can tell, this temple is still inhabited and its defenses are still in place. They killed Corypheus, which would have me dancing for joy if we did not just witness him being got vomited back up by a dying Grey Warden. If someone would please convince me that did not happen I would greatly appreciate it." Dorian idly noted that Matril's accent shifted twice during that statement before apparently settling in Starkhaven of all places.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Morrigan. "You said Corypheus wanted an eluvian, but he mentioned a 'Well of Sorrows.' Which is right?"

"I..." Morrigan scratched her head. "Am uncertain of what he referred to."

"As'eb vashe-qalab." Matril took a deep breath. "If he's not looking for an eluvian than why is he here?"

"Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

Matril nodded. "Let's find this Well before Corypheus's people do."

#

Matril leaned in to whisper to Dorian. "I don't suppose you've learned much of elvish from Solas?"

"A few words. I think my total is somewhere around a dozen now." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Morrigan is hiding something. I think she understood more of that writing than she claimed." Matril frowned. "If I had realized the temple's magic was still going to be in play I'd have brought Solas. This is..."

"Fascinating." Dorian nodded.

"I would have gone with terrifying, personally." Matril shook his head. "Dorian, look around."

"Alright, what am I looking at?"

"If those elves dwell here..." Matril glanced back at him. "Why is this place not maintained?"

"That, Amatus, is a very good question." Dorian slowly took another look around.

#

Matril looked at Morrigan, then at the hole, and then at Dorian. He didn't trust Morrigan, but... He looked at Dorian again, and nodded to the man before turning to walk the petitioner's path. Dorian's smile was brief, but it made his steps lighter.

#

Five steps into the chamber, and he had the sneaking suspicion entering had been a bad idea. Elves appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. All had arrows notched and bows drawn, pointed at them. It was a little sad just how inured to such a situation he'd grown since joining up with the Inquisition. He turned to look at Matril, who just looked vaguely annoyed.

"You..." An elf spoke from atop the dais. "Are unlike the other invaders. You bear the mark of magic which is..." The elf looked at Matril. "Familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

"They are my enemies, as well as yours." Matril took a half step forward.

The elf looked down at them for a moment, then gave a small nod. "I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion." Actual ancient elves. They were actual ancient elves. It was all he could do not to start asking questions. "I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the vir'abelasan."

"'The Place of the Way of Sorrows.'" Morrigan whispered the words to Matril. "He speaks of the Well."

"It is not for you. It is not for any of you."

"We did not come here to fight you, nor to steal from your temple." Matril gave the man a respectful nod.

Abelas stood a moment longer. Then he lowered his hands. "I believe you." He gestured. "Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal." He nodded again. "If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart..." He waved a hand. "And never return."

"I'll admit, the idea of fighting the last of their kind..." Dorian glance at Matril. "Does not thrill me."

"Consider carefully. You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own." Morrigan nodded.

Matril glanced over his shoulder at Dorian before turning back to Abelas. "I accept your offer." Dorian couldn't quite stop himself from smiling.

"You will be guided to those you seek." Abelas pointed. "As for the virabelasan..." He squared his shoulders. "It shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself." He turned and started to walk from the room.

"No." Morrigan cried out before turning into a raven and following.

#

"One stayed behind. Our guide, I suppose?" Dorian raised an eyebrow at Matril.

"One can hope." He nodded to the elven woman that remained before following. The place was spectacular. A part of his mind couldn't quite resist putting prices on some of the artifacts. Others were beyond value. There were many who would have preferred to see this place destroyed rather than learn from it. He was surprised at how much the notion offended him. "This place looks untouched."

"How could the elves pour such devotion into this..." Cassandra looked around. "Nonsense?"

"And those I have called, they remember..." Matril looked around the chamber. "And they shall endure."

"That speaks of..."

"Of a woman who stood as a force of justice." He gestured at the murals. "A protector." He turned to face Cassandra. "And the Prophet and the People, struck down the mages of the legion and claimed the field together."

Her eyes widened a moment, then she nodded. "Shartan."

"You may not agree with their faith, Cassandra. But that does not make it unworthy of respect."

"Yes, Inquisitor." She nodded to him.

#

Calpernia's forces had finished the Sentinels within the garden. "Stand aside, Inquisitor." She turned toward him. "The trials you have set me, I have overcome. As a courtesy - leave now, or not at all."

"No, Calpernia." Matril took a step forward. "We have things to discuss."

"True." She nodded. "I did not think you so civilized. You serve your people - you have one last chance to save them." She glanced up the waterfall. "The Well of Sorrows overflows with knowledge, power abandoned by those the elves worshiped as gods." She turned back to him. "To walk the Fade without the Anchor - that is what the Well of Sorrows will give Corypheus."

Matril shook his head. "Why would Corypheus think entering the Fade will work any better than last time?"

She sighed. "Speech without understanding." She paced. "I knew you would take the Well for yourself, to ransack its wisdom to try to defeat Corypheus." She shook her head. "But you'd still be just a child, playing with a sword. Corypheus will wield it as a master."

Swords were never his weapon of choice. "Once you've drunk from the Well, Corypheus will use a ritual on you." He gestured sharply. "You'll be a mindless tool, enslaved to his will."

"That..." She narrowed her eyes. "Where I come from, idle tales must be proven."

Lies had their uses. Few weapons, however, were as potent as the right truth. He tossed the scroll to her. "Here, the page with his binding ritual. He tried it on your master, Erasthenes."

"How could you know...?" Fury began appearing on her face as she scanned the document. "And these runes. No one has written in these since..." She looked up at him. "He made so many promises. And every one, a lie. Venhedis kaffan vas." The scroll incinerated in her hand. "He was to give Tevinter a true leader. If Corypheus would misuse me, he'd misuse them too. I was blind."

"That's why you joined Corypheus?" He glanced at Dorian. "To see Tevinter rebuilt?"

"To see her reborn. Slaves allowed their true potential. Corruption excised." She gestured. "Tevinter was the cradle of civilization. Imagine what her future could be. A crafter of wonders, standing against the savage Qunari. A beacon for all."

"Perhaps Tevinter does need a strong leader." He nodded. "Be that woman, while you still can."

Her eyes narrowed again. "You mock me, Inquisitor. As if you'd let me walk away."

"It's a good idea." Dorian spoke up. Calpernia's eyes widened again at the sound of his accent. "Maker knows we could use a reformer or ten back home."

"If Corypheus triumphs..." She turned to look at the waterfall again. "Listen. If any power can challenge him, it lies in the Well. Perhaps its price is too high. But if you can take it..." She turned back to him. "Humble him. Vitae benefaria, Inquisitor. Do not follow us." Shye and her followers began to walk back the way they had come. "I will give you some time. I go to confront my master. Then I will return to Tevinter..." She shrugged. "If there is anything left of me."

He bowed. "Maker watch over you, Calpernia."

She smiled before leaving.

#

Matril watched Abelas and Morrigan argue for a moment before shifting to stand slightly between them. "Corypheus needed Calpernia. He no longer has her."

"The moment we leave, he will send more forces to secure this place." Morrigan shook her head. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?"

"Do you even know what you ask?" Abelas sighed. The truth was that he didn't. And he still didn't, even after Abelas explained. Dorian, however, grew steadily more wide-eyed. "All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."

"This can't be easy, holding on to what's left."

"You cannot imagine. Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp."

"Why remain?" Morrigan stared at him. "Why perform a duty without purpose?"

Abelas turned his eyes to the well once more. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny." He looked at Matril. "Is that your desire? To partake of the vir'abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy."

"Yes, Abelas." He nodded. "That is my duty."

"The vir'abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend." Abelas started walking away. "Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

"Bound?" Morrigan scoffed. "To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

"Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours."

"Thank you for this gift, Abelas." Matril bowed.

"Do not thank me yet, shemlen." He started walking away.

"Abelas..." Matril shook his head. "There can be a place for you, if you wish it." The elven man glanced at him a moment, then turned and kept walking.

Morrigan turned toward the Well. "You'll note the intact eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least." She managed to assure him it was not a threat any longer, or at least wouldn't be after the Well was dealt with. "I did not expect the Well to feel so..." She frowned. "Hungry." She turned toward him. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service."

"I do not like this." Cassandra spoke up. "She is far too eager."

"I do not hide it." Morrigan shrugged. "To restore lost knowledge, I would risk much."

"And what would you do with it?" Cassandra glared. "You could be worse than Corypheus."

"So you paralyze yourself for fear of what might be? I can give nothing but my word." She turned her eyes back to him. "Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

He heard voices in his head. His collection of other selves, other lives, arguing with each other. Most agreed he should let her use the well. Stay safe. In the worst case, there was always that ritual Corypheus had created. And then he knew, and made his decision. "If anyone is to use the Well, it will be me." He would not allow another to be bound in his stead.

"So you will take what little knowledge you can understand, and let the rest go to waste?"

"I will do what must be done, Morrigan." Matril shook his head at her.

She glared. "I am forever balked by those who believe they know better than I. Drink if you will, for the sake of us all. But steel your will to do it."

#

He stood, watching Matril. Part of him wanted to run forward, to pull him back and tell Morrigan to drink instead. The thought of losing him was... And yet he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit of pride. Whatever else Matril was, whatever he had been... Dorian smiled just a little. Andraste's Herald did not shy away from the flames.

Water suddenly exploded from the well, knocking them all off their feet. He rose to see Matril laying at the bottom of the well. He wasn't moving. Dorian immediately started toward him. "Festis bei umo canavarum. If you don't come through this, I swear I'll kill you."

The green eyes opened, and then he was hauling Matril back to his feet.

#

"How do you feel?" Concern showed on every inch of Dorian's face.

He could sense something, flowing around him, whispering. Another set of voices in his mind. Matril walked a few steps, slightly disoriented. A whispered warning, and he turned to see Corypheus entering the garden. The creature screamed in rage as he started toward them.

"The Eluvian." Matril waved a hand. The eluvian responded by suddenly glowing. "Through the mirror." He began gesturing to his companions.

Something rose out of the water remaining in the Well. A woman's form, glowing brightly as she blocked Corypheus's path. He smiled as he went through the mirror, closing it behind him.


	19. Chapter 19

"I'm pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor."

Matril smiled. "I never doubted you for a moment, Commander."

"When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I'm not sure why." Cullen returned the smile.

"What he wanted was no longer within the temple." Morrigan shrugged.

As they continued talking, Matril heard something whispering in the back of his mind. An unfamiliar voice. He said it's words aloud. "He will not hide."

"You hear it." Morrigan turned toward him. "The Well speaks to you."

"Voices, whispering in my head. For once not my own." He frowned. "It's somewhat..." He half closed his eyes, picturing the murals of the temple and using them to form a mask for the new voice. He was half done when it seemed another took over its construction. The voices seemed to merge into one. "That's better."

Morrigan gave him a strange look before slowly nodding. "Earlier you said you knew what needed to be done next. What did you mean?"

He put on the mask. "The dragon isn't an Archdemon. It's a dragon in which Corypheus has invested part of his power. Kill it, and his ability to jump to other bodies is disrupted for a time. He can be killed."

The looks his advisers exchanged were not lost on him. Leliana, however, recovered first. "Thats..." She nodded. "No simple task. Corypheus alone is powerful, but with his dragon..."

"There is a way..." He took a deep breath. "I need to summon Mythal."

They all stared at him. "I cannot believe I'm the one saying this..." Brehan got a pained look on his face. "But are we sure that's a good idea?"

"Warden-Constable, I stopped being sure of anything years ago." Matril shrugged.

#

"Why are those my only options?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"Look at all the shit that's happened to you." Varric gave him a disbelieving look. "You were saved from the explosion that leveled a mountaintop, and fell out of the Fade. You fought a demon inside your mind - in the middle of a pitched battle between templars. Faced down one of the ancient magisters who started the Blights. Had a mountain fall on you. And lived. Single-handedly saved the Orlesian Empire. Stopped an army of demons. Whatever in the Maker's name happened in the Temple of Elfy Shit. One of those things would be impossible. All of them together? That's a miracle." Varric chuckled.

"I'm starting to see your point." Matril shook his head.

"Face it." Varric folded his arms. "You, my friend, have successfully conned all of reality."

"You know, I wouldn't have pegged you as an Andrastian." Matril shrugged.

"It's a great story. It's got heroism, love, betrayal, and random musical numbers. What's not to like?" Varric smiled. "I don't have a nug in this race. It could be bullshit, it could be true. I'll never know. But I like the idea that maybe you could save the world with a song."

#

He found Dorian reading in his claimed alcove of the library. Somehow, the man had managed to acquire himself a veritable throne. He looked up when Matril walked over. "What happened at the elven temple..." Dorian hesitated a moment. "It's got me thinking." He set the book down. "I should go back, shouldn't I? To Tevinter. Once this is done..." He stood. "If we're still alive." He walked past Matril to look out over the railing. "All my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, but what do I do about it? Nothing."

Back to... "You would just leave?" He shook his head. "What about...?"

"Us?" Dorian's smile was sad. "Trust me, Amatus, it would give me no pleasure to leave your side." He took a step toward Matril. "You make monumental decisions affecting the entire world. How can I not consider some of my own?"

"Why don't I go with you?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

Dorian smiled. "Take you away from all this? I can't ask that of you."

The power of the Inquisition, all the victories of the Game... It was strange realizing he would give it up. For Dorian. "You don't have to ask. I'm offering."

From the wetness rising in Dorian's eyes, it was clear the man knew it too. "Tempting. We both know you would end up doing it all yourself." He took Matril's hand. "As much as watching my homeland charmed into submission would amuse me, this is something I need to do."

"If..." He tightened his fingers around Dorian's. "That's what you have to do, I understand."

"There you go, breaking my heart." Dorian took a deep breath. "This is your fault, remember. You inspired me with your marvelous antics. You're shaping the world..." He nodded. "For good or ill. How could I aspire to do any less? If it means proving that Tevinter can be better, that there's hope even for my homeland? I would do anything."

"You could." He nodded. "You..." He leaned forward, and kissed Dorian. "You made me better."

"The things you say..." Dorian returned the kiss.

#

"Corypheus died, and then he didn't." Cole was sitting on the rampart walls. "That's why he always felt wrong, like he didn't fit inside himself. He wears another man's life." He shook his head. "I thought dying was forever."

"As did I." Matril sighed. "It's hard for any of us to make sense of. Corypheus is using ancient magic."

Cole stood, and began pacing back and forth along the wall. "But is it him? Is he real? If a man can be dead and then not..." Cole stopped. "Could I have saved the real Cole?"

"What happened to him wasn't your fault."

"It gnawed at me, hooks in the hollows, pain of not knowing like the knot in his belly." Cole was still. "But that is a hurt, and hurts can heal. I can heal." Matril stood, watching, as Cole took off his mask with a single word. "Forget."

"Cole?" It hurt, like watching a work of art fall to the ground and shatter. "Cole, are you..."

"You may still use that name, if you like." The voice changed, subtle but there. "I am here to help you."

His fists clenched. Then he turned, and walked away.

#

Dorian stood at the top of the stairs, just listening. The lilting strands of the lute seemed to bounce softly off the walls as the song died away. He wiped a tear from his eye. "You can sing."

"I was a bard, Dorian." Matril lightly strummed his fingers across the lute.

"Yes, of course it's just..." Dorian walked toward him. "This is the first time I've ever..." He took a deep breath, then sat down on the floor in front of Matril. "Will you play again, for me?"

Matril placed his fingers on the lute once more.

 _I feel sun_

 _Through the ashes in the sky._

 _Where's the one_

 _Who'll guide us into the night?_

#

"I wish I had been with you at the Temple of Mythal." Solas was staring up at one of his murals. "I could have warned you."

"Warned me?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

Solas turned toward him. "You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god."

There had been voices in the well. He could still hear them, in the back of his mind. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her." He shook his head. "You have given up a part of yourself."

"Solas..." Matril frowned. "You don't even believe in the ancient elven gods."

"I don't believe they were gods, no, but I believe that they existed. Something existed to start the legends. If not gods, then mages, or spirits, or something we've never seen." He met Matril's eyes. "And you are bound to one of them now." He felt a slight chill. Solas knew more than he was saying. Before he could ask, the man just shrugged. "I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus, which leads to the next logical question..." He tilted his head slightly. "What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?"

Matril squared his shoulders. "I'll use whatever power I have to undo the chaos that Corypheus and his allies have caused."

"You would put things back the way they were before?" Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, not exactly..."

"I know what you mean." Solas smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have..." Solas nodded to him. "Impressed me. You honor the past and work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high. You understand the value of..." Solas's eyes flicked to the mural. "Freedom in a way not many do. I respect that, and I am indebted to you for the reminder." He sighed. "Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and its stolen power..." Solas shrugged. "That, at least, we may still recover." He smiled. "With luck, some of the past may yet survive."

"I admit..." Matril turned to look at the murals. "The orb is..." He shook his head. "Part of me wonders what such a thing could do in the hands of someone like you or Dorian. Fire is a terrifying force of destructive energy but in the hands of a skilled blacksmith..." He took a deep breath. "With fire and will metal takes shape. A blacksmith can make chains..." He frowned.

"And the tools with which to break said chains." Solas nodded.

He turned to Solas. "You were told of Abelas?"

"I was." Solas nodded.

"You may have better luck than any of us in finding him." Matril shrugged. "You may even already know where to look."

"Inquisitor?" Solas raised an eyebrow.

"You look more like..." Matril shook his head. "And the way you speak. You are more like them than you are like any other elf I have ever met." He met Solas's eyes. "Sentinel may be the wrong word for you, but you are of similar ilk."

"Your conclusion..." Solas slowly nodded. "Is not without merit."

"I hope you decide to stay, Solas." Matril smiled at him. "The world is more interesting with you in it."

#

"That's it." Blackwall tossed his cards down. "I'm not playing with them anymore."

Dorian looked from Josephine to Matril and back again. "Amatus..." He looked down at his own cards. "You wouldn't be cheating, would you?"

"Frankly, Dorian, I resent the accusation that I would engage in underhanded subterfuge at a friendly card game with my dearest companions." Matril glared at him.

"And it isn't cheating unless you catch him at it." Cole looked up from where he was examining his own cards.

"Exactly." Matril nodded.

"Do the Fereldan accent again." Iron Bull narrowed his eyes. "I was winning when you were Fereldan."

"That is because Fereldans are terrible at cards." Matril smiled.

"Is that so?" Cullen looked from him to Josephine. "Deal again. I think I've figured out your tells."

Matril and Josephine exchanged a look. Matril said something in Antivan, and Josephine responded in the same language. "Well..." Brehan set his cards down. "It was nice knowing you, Commander."

"Now this I have got to see." Varric leaned forward.

#

"I can hear it. It's calling to you." Cole's voice came from behind him.

"There it is." Matril caught sight of the altar. He stopped when he reached it, looking up at the statue. "This is all that's left of the altar." There were words carved upon it. "'We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come. Without mercy, without fear.'"

"'Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear'." Solas's voice picked up the words. "A very old invocation, perfectly translated."

"All of you need to go." Matril turned toward them. When Dorian started to protest, he shook his head. "I'll be fine. You need not go far. I'll call if there is trouble."

No sooner had they walked away than another voice came. "You will perform this mysterious summoning alone, Inquisitor?" Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Very bold."

"Not alone." Matril shrugged. "You're here." He turned toward her. "The voices say you can remain."

"How very hospitable of them." Morrigan smirked.

Matril took a deep breath. "You know who I am: the last to drink from your Well of Sorrows. Come to me, Mythal. Whatever you are, whoever remains, I invoke your name and your power."

Around them, the world seemed to go still. And then a form was walking toward them from the tall grass. Matril turned to face the newcomer, then heard Morrigan's startled intake of breath. "Mother."

He turned toward Morrigan. "Mother?"

"Now isn't this a surprise?" The woman before them smiled. Her eyes were the same gold as Morrigan's. And she looked very... human.

"This is Mythal?" He stared.

"She is a deceiving witch!" Magic began glowing around Morrigan's hands.

The newcomer sighed. "Be a good lad and restrain her."

A strange sensation suddenly came down around him, and then his body was moving. He grabbed Morrigan, yanking her back and disrupting the spell she was summoning. "What are you doing? What..." She pushed at him. "Are you doing?"

"I don't know." He shook his head.

"Of course you know." The newcomer's voice sounded smug. "You drank from the well, did you not?"

"You..." Morrigan stared. "Are Mythal."

Horrified realization swept through him. He'd expected a spirit, some faint wisp of memory or... Maker, he hadn't expected her to be real. "Whatever hold you have over me, release it now?"

She smiled. "That is entirely up to my dear daughter."

Morrigan glanced at him, and then gave the smallest of nods before lowering her hands again. The woman gestured, and the strange sensation vanished. He could move freely once more. "I do not understand." Morrigan shook her head. "How can you be Mythal?"

"Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her."

"Then..." Matril shook his head, trying to make sense of... "You carry Mythal inside you?"

"She is a part of me, no more separate than your heart from your chest." She smiled. "What do the voices tell you?"

"They..." He slowly nodded as the words came to him. Her words, at her direction. "They say you speak the truth."

"But what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end, but a beginning." She looked toward Matril. "As for me, I have had many names. But you..." She nodded. "May call me Flemeth."

A thousand stories went through his head. The Witch of the Wilds, and she... Owned him now. He swallowed, then pushed all the other masks aside and took a deep breath. "We summoned you because we need your help."

"Against the magister who grasps beyond his reach." Flemeth nodded. "Yes, I know. The voices did not lie, Inquisitor. I can help you." She gestured. "The altar's guardian will come. Master the dragon, and it will be yours to commend against Corypheus. Fail and die."

He never thought the day would come in which a dragon would be the very least of his worries...

#

Dorian stood, and started to gather a spell to him. Solas caught his arm. He started to pull away from the other mage, then saw Matril standing in front of the dragon. And she didn't attack. Matril walked toward her, and she lowered her head to stare at him. She roared, and to his shock, Matril didn't so much as flinch.

There was a strange light in Matril's eyes, and then the same light was in the eyes of the dragon. She turned, took a few steps, and then flew away. Dorian shook his head. "If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Why did it fly off?" Cassandra turned toward Matril. "Will it come back?"

"It will come when I summon it." Matril nodded. "Once." He narrowed his eyes. "That's enough to fight Corypheus, however." He turned, and started stalking away. "I have my dragon."


	20. Chapter 20

"Amatus, I..." Dorian came to a halt at the top of the stairs. The room was in shambles. Every book on the shelves had been knocked to the floor, the draperies around the bed looked as though they had been slashed apart, and the few pieces of sculpture that had decorated the place had been flung into the wall hard enough to shatter.

At first he didn't see Matril, and then his eyes widened. The Inquisitor was on the balcony, sitting on the railing with one leg stretched out upon it and his back against the castle wall. Dorian swallowed, and walked to the door. "Amatus?"

"I'm sorry, Dorian." The accent was one he hadn't heard before. "He's not here at the moment." Matril casually waved a hand. "You can leave a message on the desk." He took a long drink from the bottle in his hand.

"I..." Dorian took a deep breath. "I would like it very much if you came down from there."

"In which direction?" He took another drink. "I tried before, you know. The first time was back in the brothel. Put a rope around my neck and jumped." He leaned his head back to touch the wall. "Rope wasn't long enough. They let me choke until I passed out, then cut me down and..." He glanced down at the bottle, then casually dropped it into the valley below. "But for a few glorious moments..." He spread his hands. "I was free."

"I don't..." Dorian took a step toward him, afraid to approach too quickly for fear that he'd... "Matril, what happened?"

"What happened?" Matril shook his head. "She's real, Dorian. Mythal or Flemeth or whoever she..." He hit the back of his head against the wall. "She's real, and with a wave of her hand she turned me into her fucking puppet. Told me to restrain Morrigan and I..." He clenched his fists. "And I did. Maker help me, she could have told me to kill Morrigan, or you and I..." He closed his eyes. "And I would have done exactly as she bid. Even if there wasn't Corypheus and rifts out there I couldn't throw myself off this balcony because..." His voice broke. "Because she doesn't want me to."

"I..."

"There's a voice in my head that isn't mine, and it drowns out the others even when it whispers." A tear found its way down Matril's cheek. "Solas is right. I am Mythal's creature now."

"Matril..." Dorian hesitated a moment. He held out a hand. "Would you please come to me?" Heartbeats passed. And then Matril swung his legs over and put his feet on the smooth stone of the balcony floor. He stood and held out his hand. Dorian immediately grabbed it and pulled him close.

The man in his arms was shaking. "A puppet, Dorian. Just a puppet."

He held Matril tightly. "Oh, Amatus..."

#

He woke in Dorian's arms, held tightly. It took him a moment to get his bearings. They were on the rug in front of his fireplace. Matril started to sit up, and Dorian responded by pulling him back down and throwing a leg over him to keep him in place. "Dorian..." Matril glanced at the man who still had his eyes firmly closed. "We're going to need to get up."

"Tomorrow." Dorian shook his head without opening his eyes.

"It is tomorrow."

Dorian sighed, then lifted himself up to look at Matril. "Are you..." He brushed Matril's hair out of his face. "Alright?"

"No." Matril smiled up at him sadly. "But with you here, I can pretend."

#

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

"A prayer?" Matril looked up at the statue of Andraste, her hands outstretched.

Cullen nodded. "For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose."

"I'm glad you haven't lost your faith." Something had risen from the water.

"I've questioned it at times, but I have found comfort in faith when life offered little." Cullen rose

"It's a a terrifying thought, at times." He took a deep breath. "The idea that we could shake off the darkness and be..." He shook his head. "Forgiven. Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.""

"Corypheus will retaliate. It's only a matter of time." Cullen turned to face him. "We must draw strength wherever we can."

"From moments like this, perhaps?" Matril raised an eyebrow.

"There are fewer of those lately." Cullen shrugged.

"There's time now." He walked toward the statue before taking a knee.

#

"He was a good man. Far too few nobles one can say that about." Matril leaned on the door frame.

"All too true, Inquisitor." Vivienne's smile was sad.

"If you need any help with the arrangements, do let me know." He took a deep breath. "I will pen personal condolences to his sister. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep her from making a huge fuss and just let you handle things."

"Thank you."

#

"Did you..." Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Find what you need, Inquisitor?"

"I certainly hope so." He nodded.

"Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us."

"We've been looking for his base since all this began, with no success." Leliana looked frustrated.

"His dragon must come and go from somewhere." Cullen shook his head.

"What about the Deep Roads?" Brehan frowned.

Josephine nodded. "We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to -"

Green light suddenly poured in the windows. The mark on his hand sparked to life, glowing in response. He looked up to see the sky torn apart again, above the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "Corypheus."

"He did that?" Leliana frowned. "But why?"

"It is the only play he has left." Matril shook his head. "He has no army, but ours is still in the south. And yet the only choice he has left me is to close the Breach again, or watch it swallow the world."

"But that's madness." Josephine shook her head. "Wouldn't it kill him as well?"

"There are things worse than death, Josephine." Matril took a deep breath. "To Corypheus, death is preferable to defeat."

"Inquisitor, we have no forces to send with you." Cullen gave him an apologetic look. "We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds."

"I must go now, before it is too late." He turned, and strode from the room.

#

He watched Matril check the arrows and sling the quiver over one shoulder. The Inquisitor was quiet, his face determined. It occurred to Dorian that this was the same mask he'd worn at Haven, when he'd offered to trade his life for the people there. His stomach lurched slightly in realization.

As he turned toward the path up toward the temple, Dorian caught his arm. "I care."

Matril blinked at him. "Dorian?"

"Whether you live or die, Amatus." He sighed, then put his hand on the side of Matril's neck and pulled him closer until their heads touched. "Please."

"Dorian, I..."

"Please." Dorian swallowed. "I am not sure a world without you in it is..." He met Matril's eyes. "Worth saving." His voice became fierce. "I swear to you, Amatus, I will not let some..." He narrowed his eyes. "Primordial bitch have you."

His reward came in the form of Matril's smile.

#

Corypheus stood, ranting, the orb glowing above him. Demons came from the Fade. Cassandra cut one down, as Matril put an arrow into another. Corypheus bowed when he saw them. "I knew you would come."

"It ends here, Corypheus." Matril narrowed his eyes.

"And so it shall." Red power began glowing around Corypheus. The ground they were on began to rise. Several of his companions lost their balance and fell to the ground below. He grabbed Dorian's arm, keeping the man on his feet. Cassandra and Blackwall both managed to keep their footing. He didn't see the others. "You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood."

Well, the man was right about the thief part, anyway. "I am the Herald of Andraste, the Lady's chosen."

The magister glared. Behind Corypheus, the dragon rose up. He felt a strange chill, the same as he'd felt when... The altar's guardian knocked Corypheus's dragon out of the sky, ripping at it with teeth and claw. They tumbled off the rocks and into the air once more, and with a beat of mighty wings, the battle began.

#

Dorian couldn't suppress a small chuckle as one of Matril's arrows hit Corypheus in what would ordinarily be a rather sensitive area. From the magister's angry roar, it was clear the insult, at least, was not lost. "Tell me you did that on purpose."

"Why?" Matril raised an eyebrow. "No one would believe us anyway."

#

The two dragons slammed into the rock. He didn't see what happened to the altar's guardian, but Corypheus's dragon was getting back to its feet. It roared at them. Next to him, Dorian's hands were glowing as he prepared a spell. Cassandra and Blackwall were already moving, blades and shields against teeth and claw.

Matril notched an arrow, then said a silent prayer before moving forward. Dorian shouted as Matril dove to the ground, rolling to come up almost below the dragon. It opened its mouth to kill him, and he fired the arrow directly upward before rolling to the side.

The arrow hit the dragon in the back of the throat, driving deep. The beast swung its head once and then fell.

Red light gleamed around its head, and then flew back toward Corypheus.

#

Matril dodged the spell Corypheus sent at him, firing another arrow. It was deflected off the barrier, but Corypheus staggered slightly. The light around the orb seemed to vibrate, shooting off jagged bits of red lightning. "Not like this. I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages..." Corypheus seemed to be struggling with the orb. "Dumat. Ancient ones. I beseech you."

"Andraste guide me." Matril stood, and focused his will through the mark.

"If you exist- if you ever truly existed - aid me now."

"There is but one god, and He is our Maker." The orb glowed green, and then it was torn from Corypheus's hand. Matril lifted it toward the sky. "Let chaos be undone."

Light gleamed, then exploded into the sky. The Breach pulsed, twisted, and then it closed.

He let the orb fall from his hand.

#

Dorian got back to his feet in time to see Matril walking toward the kneeling Corypheus. Rocks were starting to fall from the sky. Corypheus lifted a clawed hand as though he were going to reach for Matril.

"Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children." Matril's own hand was glowing. "You wanted into the Fade?"

The rift seemed to open inside Corypheus, tearing the darkspawn creature apart. And then they were falling out of the sky while rocks crashed down around them. Well, naturally.

#

Matril rose. Somehow, it was done. He shook his head, and began looking around. He caught sight first of Solas, kneeling next to the shattered remains of the orb. "Solas?"

"The orb."

"I know you wanted the orb saved." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It is not _your_ fault." Solas rose.

He frowned a little. He didn't miss the word Solas had emphasized, even if it had been slight. "There's more, isn't there?" Could Solas have been the thing's guardian once?

"It was not supposed to happen this way." Solas shook his head. "No matter what comes, I want you to know you shall always have my respect."

"Then this is goodbye." Matril nodded. He started to say something else, and then heard Cassandra's voice.

"Inquisitor, are you alive?"

"I..." Matril slowly nodded to Solas. "Dareth shiral."

"Dareth shiral." Solas returned the nod.

Then Matril turned, and walked toward where the rest of his companions were gathering.

#

He swallowed past the lump in his throat when he saw the man walking toward them. Alive.

"Then it's over?" Vivienne arched an eyebrow. "How lovely."

"And you're alive." Dorian smiled. "And I'm alive. Incredible, isn't it?" Matril returned the smile.

"And the sky is healed, healthy..." Cole stared up at the sky. "Whole. There's just that left to remember."

"Looks that way." Matril nodded.

"What do we do now?" Cassandra gestured.

"Well..." Matril shrugged. "Since I doubt Leliana is going to let any of us vanish into the sunset, I suppose we return to Skyhold."


	21. Chapter 21

"My agents have found no trace of Solas. He has simply vanished."

"Unless he wants to be found, he won't be." Matril shook his head at Leliana.

"You know more than you let on, Inquisitor." Leliana raised an eyebrow.

"I try to, generally." He shrugged. "But in this, I have only supposition." He frowned. "I think it is a truth that would cause only misery upon revelation anyway."

#

Dorian was in high spirits, basking in the hero's worship he was receiving. It was good, watching him enjoy himself. "I'm happy you're here, after all that's happened..." Matril smiled.

"I fully expected to die." Dorian waved his glass of wine. "It would have been thematically appropriate. And you." He tapped the glass against Matril's chest. "You could have been a martyr. Oh, the songs they would have composed."

"There will still be songs." He glanced over his shoulder. "Varric and Brehan have already put their heads together."

"Yes, but they won't have the same gravitas." He brushed Matril's hair back. "We'll just have to be satisfied with being alive. And together." He hesitated a moment. "I've decided to return to Tevinter. Perhaps not right away - too many interesting things here. Plus there's you. It'll be hard enough to leave, but I certainly won't until I'm through with you."

Matril laughed. "Or I'm through with you."

"Oh please." Dorian rolled his eyes. "We both know that won't happen."

#

He smiled as he listened. The Inquisitor sang for them, his voice strong. There had been a few surprised faces. But then, the man was a bard. Dorian half closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him.

When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Leliana standing next to him. She gave a small shake of her head. "He sings with an Orlesian accent."

"It's an Orlesian song." Dorian chuckled. "Ask him to sing Andraste's Mabari, and everyone here will swear he's Ferelden."

She took a deep breath. "There is a case of Agreggio if you can give me a lead."

Dorian leaned in close. "He's not from Kal'Hirol."

Leliana narrowed her eyes at him before walking away.

#

"Seriously." Varric folded his arms. "How many of your identities owe me money?"

"He saved the world, Varric." Dorian spread his own arms. "Surely any perceived debt has been more than paid."

"Clearly you've never negotiated with the Dwarven Merchant's Guild." Matril shook his head at Dorian before returning his gaze to Varric. "Let's talk about the money I'm owed."

"What money?" Varric scoffed.

"Alright, money may be a strong term in this particular case, but I am in possession of a writ entitling me to the liver and several other vital organs of one Gamlen Amell, unless he pays the money owed for the loss of merchandise provided."

"What merch..." Varric narrowed his eyes. "Tell me you weren't behind those wandering hills?"

"He fell for the wandering hills ploy?" Matril blinked. "Maker's breath, that's bad even for Kirkwall."

"Hey!"

"No, those 'lyrium infused charms'."

"The ones he tried selling to the templars?" Varric snickered.

"Wait..." Cullen's voice came from behind them. Varric and Matril both winced. "The ones that spontaneously exploded?"

"Cullen." Matril folded his arms. "Are you insinuating that templars would be foolish enough to fall for what is so obviously a scam?"

"That's pretty low." Varric shook his head. "You would think you'd have a little more respect for men and women you personally served with."

"You were their knight-captain, Cullen." Matril gave him a disapproving look. "Surely you trained them well enough to know just how dangerous lyrium can be."

"Frankly, it's insulting that you could even imply such a thing." Varric glared.

"You know, I've half a mind to tell them what he said." Matril looked down at Varric.

"Do you know what something like that could do to morale around here?" Varric's eyes widened. "These people just won a victory. They deserve for their commanding officer to have more faith in them."

"Agreed." Matril turned back to Cullen. "Commander, I'm severely disappointed in you."

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor." Cullen shook his head. "I don't know what -"

Both Varric and Matril winced as Leliana walked past, smacking them both in the back of the head before continuing on her way.

#

"So you'll be Divine." He raised an eyebrow.

"Brehan has volunteered to remain, to take over my duties as spymaster." Leliana smiled. "Not that you could not handle such, but I think you will be busy with other duties."

"It's going to be a pleasure working with you, Divine Nightingale."

"I look forward to what the future brings, Inquisitor Mouse."

#

He was almost to the door when he heard a voice behind him. "Going somewhere, Amatus?" He turned to see Dorian walking toward him. "You didn't think one brief chat would be enough, did you?" Dorian's smile was just a touch wicked.

"Did you need me for something...?" He gave a smile of his own.

"I do. Come with me." Dorian caught him by the front of his jacket and pushed him through the door.

#

The warm sun came in through the stained-glass windows. Someone had replaced all the draperies around the room. "See?" Dorian smiled. "Much better." Matril started to open his mouth, and Dorian put his hand over it. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you have all the things to say." Dorian shook his head. "Two things in private before you run off. First, you are terribly dull, and I hate you."

Matril just shook his head at Dorian before walking toward the balcony. The sun was starting to set outside. "And what's the second?" He leaned on the railing.

Dorian came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Matril and resting his head on Matril's shoulder. "I hope this ends soon."

He smiled as he leaned back against Dorian. They stood for some time, watching the sun go down. "You may be the worst liar I've ever met."

"Come now. There's Cassandra and Cullen."

"True."

#

He woke with Matril in his arms. The blond locks were once again in disarray, and Dorian smiled as he brushed them from Matril's face. When the green eyes opened, Dorian leaned down and kissed Matril. "Good morning, Amatus."

"Callum."

Dorian blinked. "Pardon?"

Matril met his eyes. "Callum Tevan ni Vael."

"I..." Dorian's eyes widened. "That's your real name?"

"That's the name I was given when I was born." He smiled, and took Dorian's hand. "Starkhaven." He shrugged. "Yes, those Vaels. I think I'm actually something like fourth in line for that throne these days."

"Your true identity, at last." Dorian smiled.

"No." Matril shook his head, then leaned in to murmur in Dorian's ear. "My real name has been Matril since the first time you whispered it."

"The things you say..." Dorian kissed him.

#

Jerath heard a twig snap behind him, and turned. "You?"

"Warden Tabris." The Inquisition's elven mage, Solas, stepped into the ruins, his staff in his hand. "I am sorry. It was not supposed to happen this way."

"What are you..." Jerath frowned.

"We do not need to be enemies. When we met in Redcliffe, I sensed..." He took a deep breath. "Do you know me?"

He frowned at the name. One of the memories that was not his whispered a name, and he exhaled. "Fen'Harel."

"Yes." The Dread Wolf nodded. "I did not believe what I had sensed at first, until..." He looked Jerath over. "Razikale."

In the back of his mind he felt Morrigan's fear. Jerath closed the walls around his mind, shutting off the link that bound them together before sending a command to Nathaniel. _Stay there. Keep them safe. I'm sorry_. He closed his eyes, and then nodded. "Flemeth is dead then?" Jerath raised an eyebrow.

Fen'Harel tilted his head, and then nodded sadly. "It was necessary."

"Which of us are you trying to convince?" Jerath shook his head.

"Razikale..." Fen'Harel took another step towards him. "You remember what our people were. You remember Arlathan."

"I don't need to remember. All I need to do is look around. Orlais. Tevinter. Antiva." Jerath laughed. "Pretend there is any difference if you wish. All that's changed is the shape of the nobility's ears." He set his hand on the hilt of the dragonbone blade.

"You know you are no match for me. Not here. Not now." His eyes began to glow. "Come with me."

There was silence for a moment, and then Jerath shook his head. "You, of all people, should know better than to ask. All your supposed wisdom, and you would risk the likes of me forgetting purpose." His own eyes went solid black, and dark veins appeared beneath his skin. His voice deepened, taking on a strangely reverberating undertone. "Come, hound. The music plays."


End file.
